iWant you to be my first
by JadeSelena
Summary: Sam has a plan.  Rated T for subject matter but nothing else.
1. Chapter 1

Hello, peeps :) I was catching up on the latest episodes and decided to continue this story that I had started writing during the hiatus after season 3. The story follows canon up to the end of season 3 (cause that's when I started writing it) but takes place when the gang is 17 because (in case the title didn't tip you off) the topic is a little more appropriate at that age. Rating is T for now (if not for the adult theme it would be mostly K) but there will be at least one M-rated chapter later on. Later chapters will also be longer - this first part is just the prologue. Reviews and comments are always appreciated (and they give motivation). Let me know what y'all think...

**I do not own the show or its characters.**

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><p>"I want you to be my first…"<p>

Freddie's head shot up from his PearPhone to stare open-mouthed at Sam. She was sitting on the beanbag next to him, idly flipping through the pages of one of Carly's girly magazines like she _hadn't_ just said the most mind-bogglingly random thing.

"Okay, Wahoo punch for me and Sam and water for Freddie," Carly announced, walking back into the studio.

Coughing to cover up his discomfort Freddie took the bottle from Carly with a nod of thanks. They were there to go over ideas for their next show but thanks to Sam the only ideas running through _his_ head weren't at all appropriate for the _iCarly_ viewers.

Carly took one look at the expression on Freddie's face and knew something had happened. "Sam? What'd you do to Freddie?"

Sam didn't need to look up to know that Freddie was blushing furiously and Carly was staring down at her disapprovingly with hands on hips. "I didn't touch the dork…" She continued to casually skim the magazine; there were too many too thin models, wearing too much make-up and photo-shopped to simulated perfection. She wanted to tell them all to eat a sandwich…

"He's bright red, Sam. You expect me to believe you had nothing to do with it?" Carly fell into the last beanbag with a sigh, knowing Sam didn't really care _what _she believed.

Giving her an indifferent shrug, eyes still on the glossy pages, Sam suggested, "Maybe you caught him fantasizing about you."

Freddie choked on the water he was drinking. He wasn't stupid enough to think Sam would tell the truth (if he'd heard what he'd thought he'd heard) but _that_ was just playing dirty.

Carly gave him a sad look and smacked him on the back to help him cough up the water. Sometimes she wished she could return his feelings, if only because it would make their friendship less uncomfortable.

"I was not!" Freddie sputtered as soon as he could breathe, wiping the spilt water from his chin with his t-shirt. They would need to make up a new word to describe just how much he hated Carly's 'I'm sorry I don't love you the way you love me' look. "Sam, tell her I wasn't!" he half-demanded, half-begged.

"How should I know what you were thinking about, Freddifer?" Sam asked with a smirk. She knew it was a loaded question but wasn't worried. If she knew Freddie (and she did) then he was still trying to figure out _what _exactly he'd heard (his geek brain frantically searching for any other possible explanation) and wouldn't run the risk of the teasing and/or physical pain if he were wrong.

Freddie opened his mouth to call her out but lost his nerve when she raised an eyebrow in challenge; he wouldn't live it down (or at all) if he'd heard wrong. He'd just have to hope that Carly believed him. "I wasn't, okay?" he told the brunette. The pat on the arm and sympathetic smile she gave him in return told him she didn't, but was going to go along with it to save him from further embarrassment. Ugh. Sometimes he hated Sam as much as he hated that look.

"Okay, so what can we do for 'Messin' with Lewbert'?" Carly asked, taking pity on him and turning the focus from the previous awkwardness.

Lost in thought Freddie barely paid attention to the plans the girls were making, taking part in the conversation only to either confirm or deny a plan's feasibility, and even then only when asked directly. He ignored the concerned glances Carly kept throwing his way and found himself staring at Sam more often than not. He thought maybe if he stared hard enough he could figure out what was going on in her head.

Sam felt Freddie's eyes on her and it took every ounce of self-control she had not to acknowledge it. She knew she'd probably broken the poor boy's brain but the intensity with which he was studying her was unnerving. More than once she was tempted to tell him it had just been a joke so the scrutiny would stop. She didn't, though; she had a plan and was going to see it through. Even if it killed her.


	2. Chapter 2

Freddie sat down at a relatively empty table in the cafeteria and pulled out his lunch. Carly was helping out in the library in hopes of getting extra credit (that she didn't really need) and Sam was probably off stealing some poor kid's lunch ('cause she was too lazy to make her own). Come to think of it, he hadn't seen Gibby yet and he was usually her 'donor' of choice…

"What up, Freddork?" Sam greeted as she sat down across from him.

"Think of the devil and she appears... No one to torture?" He handed her a ham sandwich from his bag; he'd taken to bringing an extra so he'd have a better chance of keeping his. When he'd asked her why she still stole from the other kids she'd said it was because she didn't want to fall out of practice. He wished she'd show as much dedication to her schoolwork...

Sam took the proffered sandwich with a lick of her lips. "You were thinking of me, Fredderlily?" she teased as she took a bite, wondering if he'd been thinking of her proposition.

"Thinking of sending a search party out for you and Gibby," he quickly explained. No need for her to think he was thinking dirty thoughts when he hadn't been. Not then, anyway. "I figured you were together."

"Aw, is widdle Freddie jeawous?" Leaning across the table to pinch his cheek, Sam pursed her lips and used his own words against him. "You know, if you're in love with me just say so."

Freddie knew she was baiting him but had to respond anyway. "I just figured you were off somewhere tormenting him and he needed saving," he denied with a shake of the head. "And if I were in love with you I wouldn't be here, I'd be checking myself into a mental facility."

"Nyeh."

"Nyeh."

Silence fell as they ate, Sam (unsurprisingly) finishing first.

Seeing her eye what was left of his sandwich Freddie guarded it with one hand and pushed his sliced vegetables toward her with the other. He laughed at the disgusted face she made.

"So, what do you say?" she finally broke the silence. Apparently the boy wasn't going to bring it up.

Freddie stopped munching on his carrot to stare at her curiously. "Say about what?"

Rolling her eyes at him she settled back into her chair. "About what I said at Carly's…"

"Um... what did you say at Carly's?" There was no way he was walking into this one. And a little confirmation that he didn't need to have his hearing checked would be nice, too.

Sam wanted to smack him for his intentional obtuseness but knew it wouldn't help her cause. Instead she sighed, "I know you heard what I said, Benson; it was written all over your face."

Freddie narrowed his eyes, torn between freaking out over having heard right and anger at her letting him take the fall with Carly. He decided to ride the anger because what she was suggesting was just crazy. "You let Carly think I was fantasizing about her!" he hissed.

"It _is_ your pastime of choice," Sam retorted. "Besides, Carly went ballistic when she found out we kissed. How well do you think offering you my virginity would've gone over?"

He would tell her he didn't fantasize about Carly (as much) anymore but it was hardly the issue. Looking around to make sure no one was listening he leaned in and whispered hoarsely, "You're actually serious about this?"

Sam leaned in as well, face completely blank, then dropped the pretence and gave him a 'duh' look. "Of course I'm serious." Cracking a grin she added, "Though now that you mention it, it _would_ have made a kick-ass segment of 'Gullible Freddie;' your reaction was priceless…" She wished she _had_ thought to record it, even more so when he glared at her indignantly. "So?"

Freddie put some distance between them. "Um, I haven't really thought about it," he lied. He _had_ thought about it, before last night even, often and at the most inopportune times. Like when he was doing a puzzle with his mom or in the locker room surrounded by guys. He was a hormonal teen and she was the girl he spent the most time with so he figured it was only natural. "But why?"

"It's like that kiss thing all over again. We're like the only ones left," Sam explained, motioning around the cafeteria. "It's not that I want you, I just figure we can get it over with, you know?" She mentally crossed her fingers that he'd buy it. And not think to bring Carly up as the obvious exception.

"You _do _realize you just insulted me and propositioned me in the same sentence?" She just shrugged at him, and Freddie decided he had to try to talk some sense into her. "This isn't like a kiss, Sam; 'Everyone else has' just isn't a good reason this time." Not that it was a good reason last time …

"Okay..." Sam realized that she was going to have to tell him the truth. Or _a _truth at least. Taking a deep breath she looked him in the eye. "Then how 'bout 'cause I know myself and my crappy decision-making skills?" She paused to look down at her hands on the table, playing up her vulnerability; he was a sucker for a damsel in distress. "Freddie, I don't want my first time to be in the backseat of some dude's car, or worse yet, with some random guy my mother brings home."

Freddie cringed; it wasn't outside the realm of possibility. But still. "Sam, your first time is supposed to be special, with someone you care about." He took one of her hands in his and waited for her to meet his eyes, trying to get her to understand why this was so much different than a kiss. "With someone who cares about you, you know?" It wasn't until she raised an offended eyebrow that he realized how it sounded.

"I thought that's what I was trying to do," Sam sighed, pulling her hand away. She picked up the rest of his sandwich and her backpack and got up. "Never mind. Just forget I said anything." She covered up her hurt with a smile and a shrug. "See ya around, Fredsylvania."

Freddie watched her walk away then let his head drop to the table. Maybe he should be checking himself into the nearest psych ward after all…

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><p>Rolling over to check his alarm clock Freddie groaned when he read 2:43. He couldn't fall asleep, his mind on a vicious loop, replaying the conversation with Sam and the look in her eyes when he'd implied he didn't care about her. Surprisingly the rest of the day had gone pretty much like any other, Sam treating him as though their (more than slightly awkward) chat had never happened. Apparently she'd meant it when she'd said to forget it; it definitely seemed like <em>she<em> had. But Freddie couldn't let it go. He tried to tell himself that it wasn't his responsibility to save Sam from herself, that he shouldn't feel bad because he'd told her no. Well, he hadn't actually said 'no,' it was very rare that he actually denied Sam anything (it just wasn't his nature), but his deflection was as much a rejection as if he'd told her 'not in this lifetime.' At least that was what it had felt like as he'd watched her walk away with her backpack slung over one shoulder and his half-eaten sandwich grasped tightly in her hand.

He hated that she felt rejected, even more that she was probably absolutely certain that his reasons included Carly. Freddie had given up his dream of being Carly's 'One' a long time ago (okay, last year), but a tiny (little bit bigger than small) part of him still held out hope that Carly would suddenly come to her senses and realize what was right in front of her. Not in a 'Wow, you saved my life' way, but in a 'You're my soul mate, how did I never see it?' way. The rest of him realized that this happening had about as much chance as Sam going a month without detention, so all of him figured it was time to move on (for real). The only genuine reservation he had regarding Carly was breaking their 'no more secrets' rule. He suspected Sam had had her fingers crossed when she'd made the promise but that wouldn't save her if Carly ever found out they'd kept _this_ from her. But no, Carly wasn't _the_ reason.

Freddie was feeling guilty because his reasons for not accepting Sam's proposal weren't completely selfless. Sure, he didn't want her to make another impulsive decision that she might regret later, but he was also worried that she _would_ regret it. Regret choosing _him_. That thought bothered him more than anything. A close second was the fear that he'd suck at it and she'd have something else to add to her (very long) list entitled 'Freddie's Faults.' She had enough to tease him about as it was; he didn't need to add 'bad in bed' to her collection. Truth be told he didn't want to disappoint her at all, and he was 99% (more like 120%) sure that he would end up doing just that.

Five years in and Freddie was finally happy with the way things were between them. Well, not 'happy with' exactly, more like 'okay with' because he knew they could be worse. They _had been _worse. Maybe it was just him but he felt that over the years their relationship had become less volatile. Her modifications to his name now seemed more affectionate than cruel, her slaps and punches more playful than hostile. And when they spent time alone together, which was often because of the work they did on the website, he would actually mistake them for friends. He didn't want to ruin that by ruining her first time. But he didn't want to _not _do it, either.

Before he realized his intentions he'd picked up his PearPhone and chosen Sam's number to text. He laid like that for a while, fingers poised over the keys, trying to figure out if there was a protocol to follow in a situation such as this. Finding nothing he settled on 'Okay,' hit send, and sat up against his headboard, wishing for a split-second that he could take it back. And then he realized it was 3am and there was no way Sam would be getting his text tonight – she was probably busy dreaming of bacon and hobos. Or a hobo made of bacon, gnawing his own arm in a frenzy of cannibalistic self-mutilation. He didn't know what worried him more: the way Sam's mind worked or the fact that it didn't even phase him anymore.

The phone vibrated in Freddie's hand as he was putting it away, and he almost dropped it in surprise. He hit the button to check the text and realized his hand was shaking. Sighing, he read the message aloud.

"_Ok what?"_

Freddie rolled his eyes. Of course she had to make this harder on him; she wouldn't be Sam if she didn't. He quickly replied "Don't be difficult" before he lost his nerve. He waited for her response, his breath caught in his throat. A few minutes later (though it seemed like forever) his phone buzzed again.

"_U serius?"_

Chuckling, both at her lazy spelling and her suspicious nature, he sent back "As a ham shortage." Her response was quicker this time.

" :) _Talk about it 2morrow?"_

Freddie smiled. "K. Good night."

"_Night, Nub."_

He put his phone on the night stand and lay back in bed, a satisfied (and slightly petrified) grin on his face. His last thought before sleep claimed him was that he needed to do some '_serius'_ research.


	3. Chapter 3

Getting ready for school the next morning Freddie took a look in the mirror and was glad to see that, despite the nervous lump in the pit of his stomach, 'I'm going to deflower your best friend' was _not_ tattooed across his forehead. Not that anything about Sam _could_ be considered flowery, but still. Sighing, he ran a comb through his hair then made his way across the hall to get Carly for school.

The ride was quiet, his mom driving their hybrid while he and Carly sat in the back. He had his license but wasn't allowed to drive unless it was an emergency; wasn't even allowed to sit in the front seat because his mother was afraid he'd be suffocated by the airbag should they get into an accident. He'd tried to explain to her many times that he was now taller than she was (and legally capable of driving himself), but sometimes (almost always) there was just no reasoning with her. So he stared out the window and worried about his upcoming discussion with Sam instead.

Carly was bored. Mrs. Benson didn't allow the radio in the car (it was a crash-causing distraction), she wasn't allowed to listen to her PearPhone (it was rude), and Freddie was ignoring her for the passing scenery (_seriously_?). She entertained herself by pulling his phone from his bag to check what new music he had; if there was anything she liked she'd ask him to put it on her own. Browsing through his things she found something of interest. "Freddie, what's this?"

Freddie looked over at Carly to find her holding his phone, an eyebrow arched inquiringly, and he felt his insides drop. _Stay cool, Freddie_, he told himself. _Don't give yourself away until you know what you're being accused of and what proof they have_. Coincidentally he'd learned that from the blonde-headed demon herself… "Um…what's what?"

Waving the phone in front of him Carly grinned. "Well, I was checking for music and found… an app for delis with the best honey-glazed ham? Any _particular _reason you'd have this?" _Aw_. He was going out of his way to get Sam her favorite lunch meat…

"It was for Sam's birthday," he shrugged (what he hoped was) nonchalantly, ignoring his mother's questioning glance in the rear-view mirror.

Confusion marred Carly's features. "But you didn't get her ham, you got her that pretty little silver necklace with the…"

"Oh look at that – we're here!" Freddie exclaimed as they (thankfully) pulled into the school parking lot. "Thanks, Mom," he said, grabbing his phone out of Carly's hand and throwing the door open before the car had even come to a full stop.

"Freddie Benson!"

"Sorry, Mom." He tugged the door closed and waited for her to put the car in park, all the while avoiding Carly's eyes. Well, that was stupid: she knew he brought Sam food (and what he'd gotten her for her birthday); all he'd managed to do was make her more suspicious. He would make a terrible spy…

Carly got out of the car when Freddie did and threw a curious glance (and a pout) his way. Why would he lie to her?

"Fredward…"

Freddie looked back to his mother to find her pointing to her cheek expectantly. "Aw, Mom!" he sighed. When she didn't change her pose he shuffled back to the car and dutifully kissed her cheek. "You know I'm too old for this, right? All the kids are gonna laugh at me…" No more public embarrassments, his butt.

Marisa patted his cheek lovingly, "Only the delinquents, Freddie-dear." With one last pat she reversed and left them standing at the rear entrance to the school.

Noticing Carly's attempt to hide her amusement Freddie growled, "Don't even."

Carly burst into laughter. She may not be a delinquent but the look on Freddie's face was priceless: a mix of absolute mortification and haughty indignation.

"So, Freddie-dear, did Mommy tuck you in last night or did you just sleep in her bed again?" Sam teased from where she'd been leaning against the wall of the school waiting for them. Fortunately for her (unfortunately for him) she'd seen the whole thing.

Unable to condemn Sam for her mockery Carly just hooked the blonde's arm with her own and pulled her towards the entrance, still laughing.

Freddie turned a bright red as he followed the wildly cackling girls. He'd had no idea how today was going to go but this was definitely not the way he'd imagined it starting. At least now he knew that the deal he'd made with Sam hadn't changed anything between them…

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><p>Freddie was shuffling towards the AV room, planning on spending his free period looking for new tech they could use for <em>iCarly<em>, as he mulled over the day so far. He and Sam had only shared one class that morning in which she'd studiously (ha! 'Sam' & 'studious' in the same sentence) ignored him, and Carly had been with them at lunch, making any discussion about their 'arrangement' impossible. He was deciding between being resentful or grateful when he was jerked backwards by his bag. It was so sudden that he almost fell on his butt, managing only to regain his footing at the last second. _"¿Qué…?"_

Sam pushed him into the room and closed the door behind them, quickly locking it.

The sound of the door closing made Freddie open the eyes he hadn't even realized he'd closed, and he was spun around to come face-to-face with the blonde-headed demon. "No, Sam. Not…not here," he argued, waving his hands between them. There was no way his first time was going to be in a…storage room?

"Relax, Freddie; I'm not about to jump you. That would be as bad as the back of some dude's car." Wrinkling her nose at the smell of the filth and chemicals, she added, "Maybe worse."

Then why were they in a stinky janitor's closet? And how? He was about to ask but she must have seen it on his face. That, or she was just anxious to show off…

Holding up a ring of keys Sam twirled them around her finger, grinning proudly. She walked past him to the wall opposite the door and leaned against the shelves.

Freddie knew he should never question Sam's various and sundry skills but curiosity got the better of him. "How?"

Not missing a beat she smirked, "I made out with the janitor."

"Sam!" He knew he sounded scandalized but couldn't help it.

"God you're gullible, Freduardo," Sam rolled her eyes. "I stole them while the perv was pretending to sweep the hall outside the gym but was _really_ gawking at the girls playing volleyball."

Freddie felt his nerves fraying again. "What if he reports them missing and we get caught?"

"And he tells Franklin what? 'They disappeared while I was watching underage boobies bounce up and down instead of doing my job?'" She shook her head dismissively. "No. That man-child is gonna search far and wide before telling anyone."

She was so confident that he _almost_ believed her. "Sam…"

"Chill, dude!" she bit off, quickly losing patience. "I'll give them back when we're done."

Freddie decided to let it go; the last thing he needed right now was to get on Sam's bad side. Knowing her she'd tell Carly all about their deal and_ somehow_ convince her that it was his idea. "So, um, what did you want to talk about?" He was not going to be the one to broach the subject; it still didn't seem really _real_.

"The temperature on Mars," Sam deadpanned, giving him a 'you're such a nub' look.

He refrained from telling her exactly what the temperature on Mars was; as he saw this morning their little arrangement wasn't likely to stop her from beating him up if he annoyed her. Leaning back against the door he turned his attention down to his feet. "Look, Sam… I don't think I can do this." Suddenly it didn't seem like a very good idea.

Sam had to force the anger down so she could keep her voice level. "Why not?"

When Freddie looked up he thought he saw hurt in her eyes but wrote it off as a trick of the low light. "It's just, when I thought about my first time it was always with someone I'd been with for a while, you know? When the time was right…" The expression on Sam's face told him his attempt to explain was failing miserably.

"Why do I get the feeling that if I were Carly we wouldn't be having this conversation?" she asked facetiously, pushing herself off the shelf and moving towards him.

"It's not about Carly…" Freddie saw her coming towards him and held his hands out as a shield. "No, Sam…" He was surprised when her hand didn't ball into a fist but reached for the knob instead.

Sam took a deep breath and glared into his eyes; it took all of her self-restraint not to pound the boy into a pulp for toying with her. "Move, Benson," she growled through clenched teeth. She needed to get out of there and hit something.

Freddie blinked, realizing that it was indeed hurt that he had seen in her eyes. Taking her hand from the door to hold it in between his he clarified, "I just don't know how we go from this…" He used their hands to gesture between them. "…to suddenly having…"

When it became apparent he wasn't going to finish the sentence Sam rolled her eyes. "Sex, Freddie. _Jeez_."

"Yeah, _that_." He wasn't usually squeamish about the word but now that he was planning on doing it (maybe) it was a whole different story.

Eyebrow raised she scoffed, "Apparently Carly isn't the only priss…"

Ignoring the scorn Freddie continued, "I just want us to get to know each other better first…"

Sam couldn't believe this was the excuse he'd come up with. "Um…I know you've been wearing 'Carly' blinders for like, ever, Fred_stalker_," she gestured, "but we've known each other for going on 6 years now."

Freddie nodded, her hand still encased in his; he thought it was the longest she'd ever let him touch her. "Maybe, but I feel like I barely know anything _about_ you – I'm still not sure whether or not Melanie actually exists…" He paused to give her a chance to enlighten him but she didn't. "Sam, you're like a riddle inside a mystery wrapped in a tortilla." When her lips quirked into a small smile (most likely due to the mention of food) he felt safer.

"You realize it's just sex, right? That you're not studying for an exam?" she pointed out. "There is no 'Sam' quiz where a pass gets you…"

"Ah!" He cut her off, afraid of whatever crude euphemism she might come up with. "It's still two people coming together – I think that maybe the closer we are the better it'll be." At least that's what he'd heard.

The earnest look on his face made her laugh. "Why are you such a girl?"

"Why are you not?" he countered teasingly. "Can you just humor me for once? Or is that against the Puckett code?"

This whole thing was going to backfire on her, she just knew it. "Fine; we'll do it your way." Sam disentangled her hand from his, giving him a look telling him he should be grateful she was conceding. "But just so you know, I wasn't about to force you into it, like, now. I just wanted to make sure my first time is better than my mother's was."

Freddie couldn't hide his surprise. "Your mom told you about her first time?" That was all kinds of inappropriate.

"_Duh_. Where do you think I got my 'first kiss' story?" Sam looked off in the distance the same way she had then, except there was a grimace on her face instead. "Of course it wasn't Cuddle Fish and it _obviously_ wasn't just a kiss…"

"_Gruesa…"_ Freddie cringed, covering her mouth so she couldn't continue. "You and your mom have a strange relationship."

Sam arched an unimpressed eyebrow and waited until he moved his hand. "Says the boy whose mother gives him tick baths…"

"I told you we don't do that anymore," he denied, his face heating.

The eyebrow rose higher, this time in disbelief.

Freddie rolled his eyes, beaten. "Fine. But she let's me do it on my own now!"

"Does she make you sign a 'tick bath' agreement?" Sam asked with a knowing smirk.

"Yeah." He lowered his head in shame.

She laughed but it wasn't cruel. Putting a hand under his chin she tilted his face back up to her. "You know what's sad?"

Freddie gave her a crooked grin, ignoring the feel of her hand on his skin. "What?"

"We're gonna have to schedule sex around all your mother's _locura_…"


	4. Chapter 4

Just a reminder that this was all written before season 4 aired, so time has passed but the relationship between Sam and Freddie is pretty much the same as it had been in season 3. Again, the only reason I aged them to 17 was because of the subject matter.

Also, in filling in the blanks on Sam's history I fleshed the character out a bit but (I don't think) in any way not at least marginally supported by the show. It will be better explained in the next chapter and further into the story so please bear with me. Anyone who wants to discuss it is welcome to message me.

ETA Thank you everyone for the reviews - I hope you all continue to enjoy :)

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><p>When classes let out for the day Freddie rushed to catch Sam before she left the school. He found her with her head in her locker, Carly nowhere to be seen. "Hey."<p>

"S'up Freddison?" Sam mumbled from inside the metal box. She could have sworn she had a stray baggie of beef jerky in there but sometimes her locker was like a black hole, sucking things in never to be seen again.

"Not much. So…" he tried to sound casual. "Wanna go to the Groovy Smoothie?"

Sam gave up on her search with a huff and turned to him. "Carly's got that…thing. Whatever it is she's doing to suck up to the Universities." She waved her hand around in disinterest, then peered back into her locker with a disappointed pout. It couldn't _really_ have just disappeared…

Freddie rolled his eyes even though she couldn't see it. "That's kinda the point, Sam. It's part of the whole 'getting to know each other' process..." What the heck was she doing, anyway?

"Oh." She looked at him in surprise; she hadn't expected him to make good on his condition. Or rather, she'd hoped he wouldn't. "Do we really have to start that _now_?" Maybe she'd already eaten it…

"Can you not be difficult _for_ _once_?" he mimicked her whine, leaning sideways against Carly's locker. She was so exhausting sometimes.

She studied him consideringly. "You buying?" It wasn't yummy dried cow but it was something.

He raised a pointed eyebrow. "When don't I?" At least she was finally giving him her full attention.

"True. Lead the way, Fredalupe." Sam finished up in her locker and shut it with a clang. As she turned back to him she noticed Carly walking up. "Hey, Carls."

Freddie turned to face Carly, feeling like the proverbial deer in the headlights. "Carly," he greeted awkwardly, moving out of the way so she could get to her locker.

Carly looked at Freddie curiously. There was definitely something going on with the boy lately; she made a mental note to look into it when she got the chance. "Hey, guys. What's the what?" she asked them as she threw her backpack in her locker.

"There's no what," Freddie said, too quickly. He cringed at the 'Way to be cool, Freddork' look Sam gave him over Carly's shoulder.

Sam commandeered the conversation before Freddie could spill the beans. "We were just talking about our plans for the night."

"Oh? Your mom making you watch her try on thongs again or something?" Carly figured that would explain the expression on Freddie's face when she'd walked up; no one wanted that mental image. Except now she had managed to give it to herself. _Ew._

Sam just shook her head. "No. That was last Sunday." _Good times._ "Most families do church, we do awkward fashion shows…"

Freddie shuddered in sympathy. He didn't care what Sam said – her and her mom really _did_ have a strange relationship.

Carly was too used to Sam's mom's 'eccentricities' to be overly bothered. "What then?"

"Um…" Freddie hoped Sam would come up with a convincing lie.

"We're going to the Groovy Smoothie."

He shot Sam a disbelieving look. She was supposed to _lie_. It's what she _did._

Carly's brow furrowed. "No we're not. I have…"

"Not us," Sam cut her off, motioning between the 3 of them. Carly's look said '_Rude, much?' _but she ignored it. "Us as in me and the dork."

"What? You and _him?"_ Carly pointed a thumb in his direction.

"I'm right here..." Freddie reminded her.

"You know that's not what I meant. It's just…" Carly turned back to Sam with a pout. "Why would you go without me?"

Sam rolled her eyes at her best friend. Unless Carly thought internet fairies filled their site with content she had to know they did things without her. "We have stuff to plan for the website. Seeing as you're busy I figured we'd do it now."

"Oh." Carly had originally begged off of doing the extra stuff in hopes that Sam and Freddie would bond over it and stop being so hateful towards each other (Sam more than Freddie, obviously). When it seemed to work she'd been happy to let them continue. "But the Groovy Smoothie? That seems kinda…" she searched for the right word, "…_date-y_."

It wouldn't be the first time they'd done it but this time it _did _have kind of a 'date-y' vibe that Sam wasn't altogether comfortable with. She quickly pointed out, both for Carly's benefit and her own, "Just because we're going together doesn't mean we're going _together."_ She put air quotes around the second 'together.' "And if you were anyone else you'd get hit just for suggesting it."

If Sam was threatening violence then everything was normal. But Carly had to make sure…"So you're just going to talk about the site, right?" She looked to each of her best friends in turn for confirmation. Something seemed off about the whole thing.

"I'm not doing it for my own enjoyment, that's for true," Sam assured her.

"Love you too, Sam," Freddie muttered sarcastically. She just shrugged at him. _Ugh_.

Satisfied that her best friends were still right in the brain Carly pushed herself off her locker. "Well, I gotta get to the auditorium and help set the stage for drama club. Meet up later?"

"Sure, Carls."

Freddie just nodded then watched the brunette saunter away. He refrained from yelling after her that she _really_ didn't need any more practice at drama. "You didn't have to be _quite_ so convincing with the pretend disgust, you know," he griped at Sam.

Tapping his cheek as she walked past him she teased, "Who said I was pretending?"

He followed after her, chuckling. "Hey, Sam?"

She paused at the door to wait for him. "Yeah, _Fredward_?"

"I think you were right about not telling Carly," he admitted as they walked outside.

Sam cocked a condescending eyebrow at him. "Ya think?"

* * *

><p>The walk to the smoothie shop was quiet. Freddie was thinking about all the things he wanted to know about Sam, like what had happened to her father, if Melanie actually existed, and if she did, why they were so estranged. The only thing he knew about Sam's immediate family was that her mom was a neglectful space cadet with little to no regard for her daughter, and even that was just his guess based on the (many) random comments Sam made that he wasn't even sure were true. For a long time he'd accepted that they weren't close enough for him to be privy to the details of her home life but now that he had an opening he was going to take it. Without coming off as a stalker, if he could help it.<p>

Sam, meanwhile, was trying to figure out what type of smoothie she wanted. She couldn't decide between Mango Madness and Pineapple Pomegranate Passion so she was hoping that if she played nice Freddie would buy her both. Which brought her to her next predicament: project 'getting to know each other.' She had no problem spending time alone with Freddie; they'd been doing it for years. What she did have a problem with was that _now_ there were expectations involved. The nub assumed that she'd do what? Spill all her deepest darkest secrets? They were secrets for a reason and Sam intended to keep them that way. So she could either make chiz up and hope he'd buy it (who was she kidding? Of course he'd buy it; she was a world class liar and he was the prince of gullible) or… well, she couldn't think of another option that didn't involve actually opening up. Hence the predicament.

Freddie broke out of his thoughts when they reached the Groovy Smoothie and Sam (literally) pushed ahead of him. By the time he walked in she'd already picked a table and tossed down her bag. "Seriously, Sam?"

She grinned up at him. "Mama loves her smoothies." Snapping her fingers, "_Garçon_, Mango Madness, please."

Freddie rolled his eyes and put his backpack and laptop on the table. At least he'd gotten a 'please' this time… "Of course, _mademoiselle_," he said with an exaggerated bow. Walking over to the counter he found T-Bo mixing some very unappetizing-looking cocktail. "Hey, T-Bo."

T-Bo looked up from his newest experiment. "Hey, Freddie. Here with the girls?"

"Just Sam – Carly has a drama club meeting. Two Mango Madness."

"You don't want to try my latest creation? It's got kiwi, mango, zucchini, banana, Soya sauce…"

Freddie cringed. "Uh… I'll pass."

Shrugging, T-Bo turned to start on their order. "No after-school clubs for you and Sam?"

"I have a few, but none tonight. And Sam…" Freddie looked back at their table to see her head-banging to the music on her PearPhone. He turned back to T-Bo. "well, Sam doesn't even care for curricular activities so _extra_-curricular is pretty much out of the question. All her spare energy goes into _iCarly_." The energy she was willing to expend, anyway.

T-Bo nodded, handing Freddie their smoothies. "Talking about spare energy, I've got the breakfast of champions right here…" He held up a stick adorned with rectangular cereal/fruit bars. "Want one?"

Freddie handed over the money for the smoothies. "No thanks, T-Bo."

"What about Sam? Girl is always hungry…" T-Bo tilted his head in anticipation.

Groaning, Freddie gave him an extra bill. "Fine, I'll take one."

"You're a good man, Freddie. Good man…" T-Bo handed over a bar and Freddie's change before wandering off, forgetting all about his latest concoction.

Freddie made his way back to the table, placed the bar and one of the smoothies in front of Sam, and sat down.

Sam pulled out her ear buds and looked at the bar curiously, nose wrinkled. "What's that?"

"Breakfast of champions," Freddie sighed. And three dollars down the drain…

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Breakfast was, like, 8 hours ago…"

"It's food. Are you complaining?" He reached for the bar.

"Nope." She snatched it before he could and stuffed the entire thing in her mouth, chewing loudly for a minute before swallowing.

"Good?" Freddie asked, eyebrow quirked.

Sam patted her belly. "Passable. Thanks, Freddifer." She grabbed her smoothie and took a huge gulp. "Ok. So what do we have in the vault?"

"What?" Freddie blinked, lost. _What vault?_

"The vault, Fred-duh," she repeated, thumping his forehead. "What segments do we have for _iCarly _that we haven't uploaded yet?"

Realization hit and his lips formed an unintentional pout. "You want to talk about the website?"

"I told Carly we would," she shrugged.

"So? Since when do you actually do what you say?" Now he knew _why _she'd told Carly where they were going; he should have known she'd find a way to avoid actually 'talking' to him.

"Fredley, I'm gonna let you in on a little secret." She motioned him forward and when he leaned in she whispered, "People don't like being lied to, especially by their friends."

Freddie was surprised, not at the secret but that the golden nugget of wisdom was coming from the lips of one Sam Puckett. "No way?" he breathed as though the idea was incomprehensible.

She shrugged helplessly. "Crazy, huh? But what can you do? Anyway," she pointed a finger at him, "Never lie outright if you can help it. It'll save you a lot of grief."

_She _was telling _him _not to lie? Narrowing his eyes Freddie scoffed, "You expect me to believe you always tell the truth?"

"Oh chiz no," Sam denied with a shake of her head, "I'm telling you that I never lie." She paused, then rephrased, "Well, never is a strong word; I hardly ever lie. Sometimes it's necessary." Like when Franklin asked her straight out if she was the one who had *insert prank here*, or when her mom asked if her bikini made her look easy.

"You know, most people would think telling the truth and not lying are the same thing." Even as he said it Freddie realized Sam would never be confined by what most people thought.

Sam rolled her eyes at him. "Most people are simpletons." And apparently the boy was one of them. "You don't lie; you just don't volunteer the truth you're trying to hide."

"And this applies to us talking about _iCarly_ how?" He never could decide if Sam made things way more complicated than they needed to be or if he was just too dense to comprehend what came to her naturally.

"Carly thinks we're here for the website so we talk about it for 20 minutes. While it's not the whole truth, we make it so it's not a lie," she rationalized.

He hesitated, afraid to show her the flaw in her logic. "But Carly asked specifically if we were going to do anything other than _iCarly_ stuff…"

"And I said…" She looked at him expectantly, then answered her own question with a disappointed sigh. "I said I wasn't doing it for my own amusement…"

Freddie looked at her blankly. "And?"

"It wasn't an answer to her question, you dope; it was a general statement of fact intended to lead her to a certain conclusion. Which it did." That particular skill had come in handy for Sam over the years, especially with him. _Nyeh._

He was kind of amazed at the way her mind worked. And a little hurt that it had been the truth. "I think Carly would still consider that lying," he pointed out.

"How's she gonna find out?" she posed, eyebrow raised in challenge. "This way she stays happily oblivious and Mama is guilt free. Everybody wins."

Freddie hadn't believed it when Carly said Sam didn't lie but apparently she'd been right. In a roundabout way. "You have a special relationship with the truth, don't you?"

Giving him a small grin Sam winked. "It's tough but we make it work."

He couldn't help but laugh – she made it seem so easy. "What do we do if she asks what we _did_ do?"

Sam shrugged. "Subtly change the subject." Realizing who she was talking to she added disdainfully, "Emphasis on _subtle_, Mr. 'Is that a new ceiling?'"

"I'll admit that wasn't my best moment." It wasn't his worst either – it was a good thing Sam hadn't been outside the studio when Carly had asked him about the kiss.

_Understatement much?_ "Anyway, if you get stuck just find a way to tell the truth without telling _the _truth. Semantics is your friend. _Capisci?_"

"_Capisco."_ Freddie knew Sam was good but he hadn't realized just _how_ good. It was like an art. "But wait. What about that thing with Spencer and the video store? That isn't exactly congruent with the whole no lying thing…"

"Are you kidding me? Teaching Spencer to lie transparently was the most fun I've had in forever." Sam made exceptions when it was for her own amusement. Remembering, she laughed, "Like anyone was going to believe he's cousins with the pope. Spencer's the one person on the planet more naïve than you are…"

Freddie silently chewed on his straw, going over everything Sam had said. While he was happy she'd actually shared something with him (even if it was her own special brand of truth-telling) it made him want to reevaluate every conversation they'd ever had. Suddenly this whole 'getting to know each other' thing didn't seem like such a good idea…


	5. Chapter 5

Thank you everyone for your patience - the set-up is almost done and the more interesting stuff will start soon :)

* * *

><p>Sam tapped her foot in the reigning silence, trying to figure out why Freddie had suddenly gone quiet. She thought it might have something to do with her comment about his <em>naiveté <em>so she allowed, "Fine – I'm sure there are 5 people out there more naïve than you are..."

Freddie shook his head. "It's not that." If he were braver he'd just ask her outright but who's to say she would actually tell him?

Seeing the pensive look on his face Sam read him like a book. "Don't. Don't do that, Benson." She held out a hand as though it could stop him. "If you go looking for all the times I've 'lied' to you you'll just drive yourself crazy. And trust me, you'd never find them all anyhow…" There were a few in particular she really didn't _want_ him finding.

And here he was afraid she wouldn't tell him - Freddie would laugh if he wasn't so offended. Opening his laptop he hit the power button, saying nothing. There was nothing he could say, really. He'd known she didn't tell him everything, not the way she did Carly, but to hear her say that she actually lied to him, often…

"I 'lie' to everyone, Freddie, even Carly." _Especially Carly_. "It's no big deal."

"No big deal?" Freddie scoffed, glaring at her. "I wanted to know more about you and now I'm not even sure what I _do_ know is real."

Sam regretted ever giving in to his stupid condition. "Everything you know _is_ real; you just don't know _everything._" Carly's best quality was her unjaded innocence; Sam made it her number one priority to preserve it for as long as she possibly could.

Freddie gave up and turned back to his computer. She apparently couldn't grasp why he was upset, and her utter indifference hurt more than anything. Did she not consider them friends at all?

"Oh, come on. Do you tell me everything?" she prodded, trying to get him to realize it was nothing personal.

"Well, no, but I don't hide anything from you either," Freddie countered wryly. "And somehow I get the feeling you're talking about way more than not sharing how long your showers are."

Sam would have made a crack about _why_ Freddie's showers were so long but stopped when she saw that the anger in his eyes had turned to hurt. She told herself it was his fault for wanting to get to know her better and it was in no way her problem he didn't like what he'd seen; the guilty knot in her stomach wouldn't let her believe it.

When she didn't deny it Freddie sighed and went back to work on his computer. This night just was not what he'd envisioned.

And back to the silent treatment. _Fun_. Deciding she would have had to do it eventually anyway Sam reached across the table to shut the laptop.

"What?" Freddie asked sharply.

She ignored his tone and took her agenda out of her backpack, pulling a picture from the rear flap and wordlessly sliding it face down across the table to him.

"What's this?" The messy scrawl on the back read 'Melanie and Samantha, grade 5 graduation.' Freddie slowly flipped it over to see the identical faces of two smiling girls, arms around each other. If it weren't for the non-frilly dress on one of them he never would have been able to tell them apart.

"That was the last time we were really happy," Sam supplied hesitantly. "The next day our mother told us about the boarding school Melanie had been accepted to, full scholarship. She was my best friend, even more than Carly, but when I found out she was going away…" She gazed off into the distance, lost in thought. "Well, let's just say I wasn't too happy about someone else I loved leaving." When it had been the two of them things hadn't seemed so bad.

Freddie took her peace offering for what it was. He knew how much she hated this, and, considering the pained look in her eyes, was reliving it as she spoke. Handing her back the photo he watched her put it away. "What did you do?"

Sam considered not telling but was just relieved he wasn't mad at her anymore. "I pushed her away. Hated her for all the things that made that school want her over me. That entire summer I treated her as though she was already gone, like she was invisible to me. I was just so _mad _at her." She took a big gulp of her smoothie to wet her dry mouth before continuing. "The day my mother had to drive her to the train station to meet the other 'special' kids I woke up before they did and took off, just riding the buses all day until they stopped for the night. I slept wherever that last bus left me and made my way back home in the morning."

"You were 11," Freddie said disbelievingly.

"I had my dad's Swiss army knife." It hadn't been the streets she'd been afraid of, anyway.

Freddie was shocked at the mention of her dad but didn't let it show, instead joking, "Were you always so independent?"

Sam shrugged. She hadn't had much choice – her life was what it was. "Anyway, it was months before me and Melanie saw each other again; we've never been the same since." She waved it away, pretended she wasn't affected by it.

Knowing she wouldn't go for pity Freddie decided to share something of his own. "Can I tell you something without you hitting me?"

If whatever it was would make her _want_ to hit him she wasn't making any promises. "I'll try to restrain myself…"

"I, uh…" he started uneasily. "I was pretty sure Melanie was real."

"Oh?" Sam raised an eyebrow. "And why's that?"

"You sure you aren't going to hit me?" Suddenly it didn't seem like a very good idea; he was about to speak of the thing which was never to be spoken of. At least spoken of by _him_ – rules generally weren't applicable to Sam.

Groaning, Sam lifted her hand in preparation for a thumping. "Give it up, Fredward."

Freddie took a deep breath and avoided her eyes, bracing himself for her reaction. "Because of the kiss."

"Huh?" Sam wasn't sure she really wanted to know; she'd been hurt enough when Melanie told her about him running away on their date 'cause he'd thought it was her.

"When Melanie kissed me it wasn't the same. At the time I thought it felt different because you were all sissified; you know, you weren't acting like yourself." He leaned back in case she decided to throw a punch his way. "The more I thought about it I was pretty sure it wasn't you 'cause it didn't feel the same."

Sam stared at him with narrowed eyes. "Did you just tell me my sister is a better kisser than me?" The dork was lucky he was out of her reach. If he knew how close she'd come to beating him to death with the 'balloon' racket that day he wouldn't have brought it up at all.

Freddie held his hands up, quickly clarifying, "I never said she was a better kisser; I said it was different." Forcing a crooked grin he assumed what he hoped was a flirtatious voice, "But if I had to rate them I would definitely say Melanie's kiss failed to measure up to my first." He didn't know if he was getting himself out of trouble or just digging himself deeper but it was the truth. If he counted Sam as his first, which he did.

Fighting the temptation to ask where Carly ranked on that list (like she didn't already know) Sam settled for a gruff, "Good save."

Not that he _wanted_ to get hit but he'd expected more of a response than that. "Uh... thanks?"

"And Fredmunch?" Sam picked up her smoothie and pointed it at him. "If you ever tell anyone about this conversation I'll wedgie-bounce you into a tub of dog food."

Her look told him it wasn't an idle threat.

Satisfied he was adequately intimidated Sam broke eye contact and took a drink of her smoothie. After a lengthy pause she looked at him expectantly. "Well…"

Freddie half-expected her to finish with 'lean,' his mind flashing back to the fire escape so long ago. It wasn't until she huffed and opened up his laptop that he realized she meant to get to work. Accessing his _iCarly_ files he sighed and switched gears. "Um… we have the 'Wake up Spencer' with the body pillow but we can't really put that one up." While it had been hilarious most of it wasn't suited to general viewing.

"Just edit out the naughty bits," Sam interjected with a shrug. As they got older it was getting harder not to do things that were inappropriate for their younger audience. She'd brought up adding a PG section to the website but Carly had been dead-set against it and, _quelle surprise_, Freddie had sided with Miss Prudey-Pants.

"We'll have maybe 2 minutes of material left," he argued.

"Better than nothing." She took a drink of her smoothie. _"Suivant..."_

"Okay, I'll get on it tonight." He paused to take a sip of his own smoothie. "Next up is the 'Super disgusting slow motion' with watermelon."

"Oh, yeah. That was fun..." Sam moved her chair closer so she could see the monitor. "The pictures that the seeds made were wicked cool. I sprayed mine with lacquer and hung it in my room."

Freddie looked at her. "So did I but my mom made me get rid of it because 'it might attract bugs'," he put up air quotes and rolled his eyes. "It's in my locker at school now."

"You're such a nub," she announced with a light punch to his arm. "Speaking of your crazy mother, did you put up the movie stars vs. lifeguards 'Random Debate' I had with her?"

"No. It's like 45 minutes long…" Freddie loaded the vid, turning to glance at her admiringly. "You know, I really didn't think anyone could out-debate my mother, especially about something so ridiculous."

Sam chuckled. "No one out-argues Sam Puckett; you'd do well to remember that, Freddison..." She grinned at him then turned back to watch the debate that was playing. "We could turn it into a series, I guess."

He didn't bother to remind her that he'd won the medicine vs. garbage debate; she'd just say he cheated by exploiting her weakness for meatballs. He stared at her profile for a few moments, smiling at the memory, before looking back to the monitor. "Okay. If we just keep the funniest bits it should leave us about 10 minutes, broken down into 3 parts."

"Sounds good to me." Sam didn't mind letting him make decisions when there was no one around to think she was going soft. Leaning back in her chair she folded her arms over her stomach and said proudly, "Ending of course with your mother fleeing the room screaming in defeat."

Freddie scoffed. "She fled because she was scandalized. You told her, completely seriously I might add, that movie stars were more important because they promoted healthy sexual fantasies." While his mother's reaction had been amusing it hadn't been worth the hour-long lecture he'd gotten afterwards.

"Your mother is easily scandalized," Sam pointed out. "Besides, it ended the deadlock, didn't it?"

He nodded in agreement. "Sure, but how would you like to put that up on the website? It isn't exactly youth friendly…"

"Just edit it so that she flees from something else I said." She grabbed his arm with both hands and shook it dramatically. "I have faith in your nerd skills, Frediwan."

Freddie grinned at her. "Anything for you, Princess Puckett."

Sam returned his smile and held up her empty cup with a quirked eyebrow. "Pineapple Pomegranate Passion?"

* * *

><p>"Alright, Fredley, I think that's enough for one day." Sam closed his laptop to show him she was serious – he had a habit of getting into the tech stuff and going for hours, finding new things to show her and test out.<p>

They'd spent over an hour talking about _iCarly_, deciding on a schedule for what they would put up on the website and planning the next segments they would shoot. It was more than the 20 minutes Sam had originally allotted but Freddie didn't really care. He would never admit it aloud but he actually enjoyed planning the website extras with Sam more than the actual show with both girls. He thought it might be because when planning the show they did all the creative work and he was relegated to being 'tech boy;' when he and Sam were working on the site he felt like he contributed more. Or maybe it was because when they were alone Sam treated him like an equal (for the most part) and didn't pick on him nearly as much. When it was just him and Sam they actually _got along_.

Sam's phone rang and she checked the display. "Carly," she informed Freddie before answering. "S'up Carlotta?" She moved her chair back to the other side of the table.

Freddie raised an eyebrow at the physical distance she'd just put between them; they weren't using the laptop anymore but that didn't mean she had to move. Did he have bad breath or something?

"It's going good. We figured out this week's segments and…" As expected Carly didn't really want to know what the result of their meeting was.

He was watching Sam's face, trying to get some clue as to what Carly was saying, when her eyes suddenly narrowed. Whatever she was hearing she obviously didn't like.

"Yes, Carly, we're still at the Groovy Smoothie," Sam confirmed, barely keeping the exasperation out of her voice. "Hey, Bo!" she yelled across the room, "Say 'hi' to Carly!" T-Bo looked at her in confusion from behind the counter so she waved the phone around to draw his attention to it.

"Oh! Hi, Carly!" he yelled back.

Sam put the phone back to her ear. "Happy now?" She listened to Carly go on about how sorry she was that she couldn't be with them and how she was afraid they were drifting apart. Sam didn't point out that it was Carly's choice to take on so many extra hobbies: she couldn't blame the brunette for being motivated just because she herself wasn't. "We're not gonna drift apart, Shay," she assured her best friend. "Okay, see you in 20."

Freddie frowned, knowing that as soon as Carly got there he and Sam would go back to barely tolerating each other. Well, Sam would go back to barely tolerating him; he would just go along with it.

"Yes, I'll bring you and Spencer smoothies…as long as he makes spaghetti tacos." Sam looked up at Freddie. "You suppering with us?"

"Sure." His mom was working a double shift so he might as well take advantage of the company.

"The nub is in," Sam relayed. When Carly went to keep talking Sam cut her off, "Ok, see you soon," and quickly hung up. "Carly wanted to make sure we were still here..."

Freddie cocked his head in confusion. "Didn't you just say we were meeting her at the apartment?"

"Yeah, but she wanted to make sure we were still in public, probably so we couldn't kill each other." Or make out, judging by her tone; Carly was definitely suspicious. The boy being as transparent as a piece of glass wasn't helping them any either.

"So…" He wanted to ask her about moving her chair but was afraid he'd sound clingy. "I'll get Carly and Spencer's smoothies and then we can go," he finished lamely. When she just nodded he made his way to the counter to place his fourth order of the night.

Sam leaned back in her chair and studied him, wondering what he'd been about to say. Tonight hadn't been as horrible as she'd expected. Sure, she'd told him more than she'd planned to but he had taken it all pretty well. Maybe this whole 'getting to know each other' thing wouldn't be too bad after all. As long as she could remember that it was just a means to an end…

While he was waiting for T-Bo to make the smoothies Freddie chanced a peek at Sam to find her watching him. He smiled at her cautiously and she (surprisingly) returned it.

Sam's eyes narrowed when a dirty-blonde that had been sitting at another table suddenly sidled up next to Freddie and they started to chat. Without thinking she yelled, "Hey Freddie, let's go! Carly and Spencer are waiting!" When he turned to her she tapped the inexistent watch on her wrist.

Freddie cringed at the display. "Jeez, Sam, hold your horses, will ya? T-Bo has to make them…" Noticing the curious look on the face of the girl he'd been talking to he joked, "She's impatient. Sadly it's one of her best qualities..." The girl didn't laugh with him, just grabbed a handful of napkins and walked away without another word. He was still trying to figure out what had happened when T-Bo came back with his order. "Girls are strange," Freddie shared with the 'doctor of smoothiology.'

"You're preaching to the choir, my man," T-Bo replied as money exchanged hands.

Sam smirked in triumph when the little tart gave Freddie a dirty look and teetered away on her too-high heels. It didn't matter that Sam wasn't here with Freddie _that way_; you just didn't hit on a guy that was out with a girl. No matter how cute he was… When Freddie got back to the table she put his backpack on for him (because his hands were full, not because the nasty blonde was watching their every move), threw her own over her shoulder and picked up his laptop. "Ready?"

"Lead the way, _Samõrita_," Freddie smiled, mirroring her from earlier that day. He was a little confused by her actions but wasn't about to question them.

As they left Sam looked over to see the chick giving her a 'lucky bitch' glare. Sam threw her a 'Suck it, sister' grin and walked out with Freddie hot on her heels.


	6. Chapter 6

This chapter kinda earns the T rating so reader beware ;)

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><p>On their way to the Shay's apartment Sam tried to pinpoint exactly why the blonde hussy at the Groovy Smoothie had gotten her back up. She'd already considered and discarded jealousy; she had no hold on Freddie and it wasn't like the bimbette had been a threat anyway. Even if Freddie <em>were<em> over Carly, which Sam knew wasn't the case, the girl from the shop was neither petite nor brunette. Despite the mini-skirt she hadn't stood a chance…

"You okay?" This silence wasn't like earlier; it was uncomfortable and made Freddie think he'd done something wrong.

"Hmm," Sam answered ambiguously. She'd realized she wasn't upset because the girl at the shop had been a threat but because the girl hadn't seen _Sam_ as a threat. The girl had known Freddie was with her, saw them together, and _still_ went after him.

The brooding expression and the fact that her attention was focused on the sidewalk told Freddie she was having second thoughts. "Sam?"

A tight knot of insecurity had formed in her stomach and Sam had to take a deep breath to dispel it. "Yeah?"

He stepped in front of her, forcing her to stop, and used the tips of the fingers of his smoothie-laden hand to tilt her face up to him. When she met his eyes he whispered, "Thanks."

Sam raised a confused eyebrow. "For what?" Making fools of them both?

"For talking to me tonight. I know you didn't want to – and you're probably regretting it – but I'm glad you did." And it wasn't just because she'd told him about Melanie; he felt like they'd gotten closer in the last two hours than in the last six years.

The sincerity in his voice made Sam's breath catch. She didn't know of anyone who would stick around with the way she continuously treated him much less _care_; try as she might to push him away (and did she ever try) the boy just refused to budge.

Freddie saw the trapped look in her eyes and hastily removed his hand, mumbling, "Sorry…" He knew she didn't really like to be touched, at least not when she didn't initiate it, and especially not in public.

Even though she'd spent years encouraging his wariness Sam felt a little bad. Ignoring the warning bells going off in her head she gave him a sly look. "Freddie?"

"Uh… what?" He could see the wheels turning in her head and was a little nervous about whatever it was she was thinking about.

"Don't drop the smoothies," she warned enigmatically.

Before he could ask what the hell she was talking about she grabbed hold of his elbow and pulled him along. "_Sam_…" he sighed, tightening his hold on the cups. He was not looking forward to whatever punishment she'd devised for touching her without permission but he couldn't put up a fight without risking the drinks.

Sam tuned out his protests and led him into the next alleyway she could find. About half way down it she turned him to face her and switched his laptop to her left arm, placing her free hand against his chest.

"Uh, Sam…" All Freddie could think was that there were no witnesses – she could probably kill him without anyone being the wiser. She started pushing him backwards and he swallowed hard, almost dropping the smoothies in surprise when his back met the building. He opened his mouth to object to the treatment but quickly shut it when he realized he didn't want it to stop. It was official – she'd turned him into a masochist.

Stepping between his outstretched arms Sam moved her free hand to the back of his neck and pulled him down to meet her halfway. "Afraid, Benson?" she whispered, taunting him.

Fear was the furthest thing from Freddie's mind at that moment, Sam's body inches from his and a feral look in her eyes. He didn't know if she was really looking for an answer but he nodded anyway, his lips a hairs-breadth from hers.

"Good," she breathed, closing the remaining distance between them. Tilting her head she brushed her lips against his and allowed her eyes to flutter shut.

Freddie's eyes stayed open, partly out of shock that Sam was kissing him and partly because he couldn't tear them away from her face. Instinctively melding his lips to hers he was rewarded when she sighed against his mouth. She pulled away, far too soon for his liking, leaving him dazed. "What was that for?"

"Well," Sam covered throatily, "If I'm going to be subjected to all this 'getting to know each other' chiz I should probably make sure we're compatible…" Tangling her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck she tugged him closer. "What do you think, Freddie? Do we have chemistry?" Her tone was confident but the knot in her stomach had returned full force.

"I, uh…" Despite his churning thoughts there was one thing Freddie was clear on: he wanted to kiss her again. He knew he was pushing his luck but decided it was worth the risk. "I didn't know there was going to be a quiz…" he breathed helplessly, watching in fascination as her tongue appeared to swipe her lower lip. _Definitely __worth __the __risk_.

"Is that so?" Sam was equal parts relieved and impressed; she'd obviously underestimated his capacity for deviousness. Heaving a put-upon sigh she pretended to reluctantly give in. "I guess we'll just have to try again. Pay attention this time, Nub…"

Freddie grinned, elated that she'd given him the go-ahead. Taking the initiative he moved forward and kissed her, his only regret that he couldn't pull her closer, just tighten his elbows at her waist and let the hand on the back of his neck guide him. He mentally cursed the smoothies in his hands, then realized it had been Sam's intention all along – she wanted to be in control. He contemplated dropping the drinks to teach her a lesson but that would only draw her wrath and ruin the moment.

If it weren't for the pain in her sides where his elbows were digging Sam would have been amused at his futile attempt to direct the situation. She pulled back without breaking the kiss, making him lose his hold. When he groaned against her mouth in protest a shiver spiked down her spine.

He felt her smile against his lips, pleased by his annoyance he was sure. Well, he wasn't about to give up that easily… Making sure her eyes were still closed he glanced around them until he spotted a closed dumpster on his left. Slowly, so she wouldn't notice, he freed his hand of its burden and snaked the arm around her waist, then tensed it to pull her body flush against his.

Sam gasped into Freddie's mouth at the sudden movement, her eyes shooting open to see him grinning at her in triumph. She was kinda proud and a lot turned on.

Freddie watched the normal clear blue of her eyes turn stormy and felt his heart skip a beat. Tightening his grip, he lifted her off the ground so that they were level and crashed his lips into hers, releasing years of pent-up frustration.

"Freddie…" Sam moaned, responding with equal fervor. Resolved to win the fight for dominance she drew her nails across the nape of his neck and ran her tongue across his bottom lip.

He sighed appreciatively, not needing any more incentive than that. Opening his mouth he sucked her tongue into it and caressed it with his own. She tasted of mango and Soya Sauce, and he thought he could happily live with that flavor forever if it meant he would be doing this.

Sam swallowed a whimper and traced her tongue along the inside of his top teeth before attacking his own once again. Then all of a sudden she remembered where they were, and why she was doing this, and reluctantly broke away.

Freddie immediately missed the pressure of her lips but let her slide down to the ground anyway. Her hand was still on his neck, though, so he left his arm around her waist. Staring at her blankly, breathing heavily, he tried to process everything that had just happened.

She was glad to see he was as overcome and unfocused as she felt. "So?" she asked with a quirked eyebrow, "Do we have it?"

Feeling brave, Freddie pulled her against him so she could feel just how much. "What do you think?" he exhaled.

Sam quashed her reignited arousal and put on a serious face. "I guess we'll just have to make do," she sighed, playing with his hair to take the sting out of the words. The boy really should have known better than to give her an opening like that...

Freddie hid his face in her neck to hide his flaming cheeks and catch his breath. "Sam…" he growled, nipping her skin then kissing where he'd bit. God, how he wanted to do more...

"Fine," Sam gave in, trying to hide how much he was affecting her. His warm breath on her skin was making her tremble and if he kept it up she'd probably give in to anything. She tugged his hair to get him to look at her. "Brangelina'd be jealous. Happy now?"

"_Muy,__"_ Freddie admitted with a grin. He was starting to think their arrangement was the best idea Sam had ever had. This friends with benefits thing was _awesome_…

Sam couldn't help but grin back. "Good. Now let's go before Carly calls out the National Guard…"

* * *

><p>They were only a half hour late by the time they walked into the Bushwell Plaza but Carly was apparently already freaking out; Sam had ignored two calls and a text, and Freddie one of each.<p>

"No unidentified liquids in my lobby!" Lewbert yelled across the room at the teenagers.

"Chillax, Lewb, they're just smoothies!" Sam yelled back even though they were by then standing in front of him.

"I don't care!" he screeched, "Get them out of my lobby!"

Once inside the elevator Sam started looking Freddie up and down.

"What're you doing?"

"Looking for evidence," Sam obviouslied, motioning for him to turn around.

Freddie did as he was told; there was usually a method to Sam's madness…

"Maybe the alley wasn't such a good idea," she admitted. Pulling napkins out of her backpack she started to clean Freddie's jacket and backpack the best she could. "You need to wash these before Crazy sees them…"

He didn't bother to defend his mom – Sam had fallen victim to her insanity more than once so he figured she'd earned the right. Especially since his mom (sometimes affectionately) referred to the blonde as 'the delinquent.' The ding signaled their arrival on the 8th floor.

Sam gave him one last cursory glance and decided it was as good as it was going to get. Taking Carly's smoothie from him she handed him his laptop and exited the elevator. "Am I okay?" She turned slowly, arms out.

Freddie checked her for anything amiss. "Um… you might want to keep your hair covering your neck." He must have bitten her harder than he'd intended…

Watching him turn red she rolled her eyes and pulled her curls over her right shoulder. "Better?" When he nodded she continued to the Shay apartment. "Take off your jacket and backpack as soon as we get in," she advised as she opened the door. "We're home!"

"_Hola!__"_ Freddie added. He put his laptop and Spencer's smoothie on the table then dropped his backpack on the floor and his jacket on top of his bag, looking up just as Carly descended upon them.

"Where the heck have you guys been?" They hadn't answered her calls or texts and she'd been worried they'd been jumped by hobos or something. She'd been _this __close_ to calling 911 or some of her dad's buddies when her best friends came strolling through the door like nothing was wrong.

Sam hung her jacket on the coat tree, handed Carly her smoothie, then made a bee-line for the fridge. "Chill, Carls. We had some stuff to take care of."

Carly knew Sam wasn't going to take her seriously so she focused on Freddie. "And you didn't think to call so I wouldn't worry? Or answer when I called you?" She put her hands on her hips so he'd know she wasn't kidding around.

"Um… sorry?" He didn't know what else to say; they weren't _that _late.

"Oh, get this," Sam interrupted from the kitchen where she was pouring drinks. She motioned for Carly to join her, waiting until she did before continuing, "Just as we were leaving the Groovy Smoothie this tart started flirting with the nub."

Carly's eyes widened. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," Sam nodded, waving her hand in the air, "You could _smell_ the desperation…"

"Sam!" Carly admonished. Maybe she'd been hasty in thinking they had something going on.

Freddie joined them at the island and took his glass of punch from Sam. "She was not flirting with me," he denied, "She was just asking me what smoothie I'd recommend."

Carly giggled. "A girl does not ask you your smoothie preferences for nothing, Freddie."

"Wake up and smell the come-on, Benson," Sam laughed. "The girl was looking for more than a good smoothie…"

So Sam had thought that the girl (Sandy?) had been hitting on him. He tilted his head at her, wondering if that had been the reason for the scene.

Sam ignored the boy's confused stare. She knew he was probably thinking she'd been jealous; she'd have to set him straight later. "So when's supper? Mama's starving!"

Shaking her head amusedly Carly called out to her brother, "Spencer! Sam and Freddie are here!"

Spencer slid out of his room where he'd been trying to arrange his art supplies into some semblance of order but instead had ended up making a sculpture out of the storage bins. Now he had a 6-foot tall Tupperware Tower and homeless supplies all over his floor. "Hey, guys! Ready for spaghetti tacos?"

"_Si, __señor!__"_ Freddie grinned; Spencer's enthusiasm was contagious.

"I hope you used a lot of garlic, Spence," Sam greeted. "I have this taste in my mouth I really need to get rid of."

Freddie grimaced; he wasn't sure whether she was alluding to the kiss or the thought of someone flirting with him but he knew the comment was aimed at him.

Stopping in his tracks Spencer turned to his sister with a raised eyebrow. "Do I want to know?"

Carly shrugged. She wasn't sure _she _wanted to know.

"T-Bo's latest concoction," Sam volunteered, mock-scolding, "I don't even want to know what you guys were thinking."

Freddie saw his opportunity to get Sam back for her little remark. "Well, I thought it was pretty good. What little I got to taste of it …" Two could play the veiled references game.

Sam coughed into her punch. One lesson and he thought he was an expert at manipulating the truth?

"Aw, did Sam steal your smoothie again?" Spencer asked sympathetically. Speaking of smoothies… "Where's my smoothie?"

Freddie went to retrieve Spencer's smoothie from the living room table and gave it to him. Avoiding the first question he presented, "One Blueberry Blitz."

Spencer noticed his fingers were greasy. "Freddie, what's on the bottom of my cup?"

"Yeah, Freddie… what's on the bottom of Spencer's cup?" Sam asked innocently. If he was such a pro he should have no trouble getting out of this one.

"Um, I don't know." It was the truth – who knew what that dumpster had been covered in?

It wasn't the most convincing tone Sam had ever heard but Spencer had taken a sip of his drink and looked as though he would let it drop.

Carly inspected her brother's cup as he drank. "Ew! How can you drink that?"

"It's only on the cup," Spencer shrugged.

"It could have soaked through to the smoothie, Spencer," Carly said in disgust. "Freddie, where'd you put the cup?"

Freddie had been so close to safety he'd already silently congratulated himself. Stupid Carly and her stupid sanitation standards.

Smothering a chuckle Sam raised an enquiring eyebrow, anxious to see how he was going to handle this turn of events.

Carly studied the look on Freddie's face and knew he was hiding something. "Well?"

"Uh…" Freddie stalled, racking his brain for a convincing story and coming up with nothing. Realizing he was out of his depth he looked to Sam for salvation.

Sam was enjoying watching him struggle too much to let him off the hook now. If he wanted to play with the big boys… "Just tell them where the cup's been, Freddie," she goaded with a wink.

Okay, so Sam didn't like him using her own tricks against her. Point taken. He gave her the puppy dog eyes, hoping to exploit her feelings. When she just rolled hers (he should have known she couldn't be played) he admitted defeat with a 'you win' look. He would have begged if it wouldn't have given the whole thing away.

She'd almost fallen victim to the puppy dog eyes. Almost. She'd rolled her eyes at her weakness and held strong. Until he'd given her that look. The one that in essence said she was a goddess and he a mere mortal. Sam _loved_ that look. So she'd bail him out, this time. But she'd also make him regret ever going up against her in a war of words. "Back off, Carls; the dork's embarrassed."

Exhaling in relief Freddie escaped to sit at the table. He knew he was going to owe Sam big time for this.

Carly turned to Sam in confusion. "What's he embarrassed about?"

"Well, Baby Boy Benson here had 3 smoothies and didn't go to the bathroom before we left the Groovy Smoothie," Sam said mockingly. "We stopped at an alley." She raised an eyebrow at Carly and let her assume the rest.

"Freddie, you didn't!" Carly turned on him in shock.

Spencer gave him a grave look. "Dude, you know you can get arrested for that?" He spoke from experience.

Freddie was so amazed that not a lie had passed Sam's lips that he didn't even mind what she'd insinuated. He hung his head in pretend shame. "I know."

"You better not let your mother hear about this, Freddo. You'd be forcefully sanitized," Spencer pointed out.

Sam mentally patted herself on the back – she'd managed to diffuse the situation, indebt the nub to her, _and_ stick it to him all at the same time. It was good being her. "So we gonna eat or what?"

Sudden realization hit Carly as they all took their seats and Spencer began to serve the food. "Ew, Freddie! Have you even washed your hands?"

"No, he hasn't," Sam sing-songed.

Freddie glared at Sam – she definitely wasn't a gracious winner.

"Freddie, go!" Carly commanded.

Sighing, Freddie got up and made his way to the kitchen sink.

"Not there!" Carly shrieked, pointing towards the hall bathroom.

He turned and headed off in the direction of Spencer's bedroom, grumbling under his breath.

"At least you get the fancy soap!" Sam laughed after him.


	7. Chapter 7

Hello all! Some of you have noticed by now that this story will be going a little deeper than the title suggests; this chapter it becomes a little more apparent. Also, I probably should have warned you in the beginning that it will head into angst territory. Not just yet but it will. That being said, I hope you all continue to enjoy ;)

Thanks for the reviews - they do a writer good :)

* * *

><p>"And that's why you never let Sam near you with tweezers!" Carly exclaimed.<p>

Sam nodded enthusiastically, threatening the camera with the metal instrument. "Carly knows of which she speaks."

Carly approached the camera and, blocking her mouth from Sam's view, mock-whispered, "She did my eyebrows and I had to wear bangs for _two __months_."

"I did not!" Sam denied, feigning shock.

"She did not," Carly admitted, shrugging.

The girls looked at each other and laughed.

"Anyway, that's it for this _iCarly_," Sam pouted.

Carly copied her. "Until next week…"

"Howl at the stars!"

"Wish on a moon!"

"_Ciao!__"_ they said in unison, waving.

Freddie shut down the feed. "And we're clear." He smiled at the girls as they high-fived. "Good show, guys."

"We know," Sam smirked.

Gibby glared up at her from his place on the floor of the studio. "You plucked my chest hair!" he accused. "_Again_!"

Sam shrugged unapologetically. "You should have learned last time not to come near me shirtless…"

He would have argued shirtlessness didn't automatically warrant abuse but she was offering him a hand up and he was too busy trying to figure out if it was a trap. Taking a deep breath he placed his hand in hers and awaited his fate.

"Play nice…" Carly interjected, hoping to avert any devious thoughts on Sam's part. "Gibby just helped save the show." They'd had to make some last-minute changes when the camera in Lewbert's office hadn't transmitted, ruining their 'Messin' with Lewbert' segment. It had been lucky that Gibby was there for 'Hey, what am I sitting on?' Well, lucky for _iCarly_, not for Gibby. _Poor __Gibby._

Knowing everyone expected her to drop him Sam smoothly pulled him to stand beside her. And then wiped her hand on Carly's shirt to get rid of the Gibby Germs.

Carly rolled her eyes at the antics but let it go 'cause it could have been worse. She watched silently as Gibby put his shirt back on, probably to avoid any further torture from Sam who was tossing the beanbags back in the center of the room.

"Nice improv, by the way," Freddie congratulated Sam, trying to gauge her mood. After the alley the night before he'd imagined she'd be more… well, he didn't know _what_, but she'd barely said two words to him all day and he was feeling a little insecure. Rationally he knew she'd initiated the whole thing but things weren't always rational with Sam.

"What can I say? Half-naked men inspire me." Sam waggled her eyebrows at Gibby, feeling a little bad when a blush tinged his face. Ever since Tasha had broken up with him the month before (the skunk bag was going away to college in the fall and needed time to 'find herself'; Sam had offered to help her find Sam's fist but sadly Gibby had declined) he'd been back to his old unconfident self. It was amazing (ly sad) what a hot girlfriend did for a guy's self-esteem…

Carly sat down and looked quizzically at her female best friend. "But _why_ do you have tweezers in your pocket?"

"What don't I have in my pocket?" Sam 'duh'ed as she fell into a beanbag.

Silly her for asking. "As long as none of it's moving…" Carly sighed.

Sam shrugged, making no promises. Leaning back she closed her eyes so she wouldn't have to see the dork staring at her.

"Don't get too comfortable…" Freddie warned as he put away his equipment, "I need you to distract Lewbert so I can fix the connection." He would use the opportunity to make sure everything was okay between them.

Sam didn't need to open her eyes to know who he was talking to. "I'm tired – get Gibby to run through the lobby shirtless and give Lewb a heart attack…" If Freddie thought she didn't see what he was doing then he needed a lesson in subtlety to go along with the lessons in creative honesty.

He was trying to come up with some reason it _had_ to be her when Gibby unwittingly did it for him.

"Nuh-uh; I'm still sore." Rubbing his chest he looked at Carly. "You got ice?"

She made a disgusted face. "_Ew_, Gibby; I don't want your chest anywhere near my ice…"

Sam rolled her eyes under the lids. "Dude, it was like four hairs. Get over it."

"Seven," Gibby argued. "Do you know how long it's gonna take me to grow those _back_?"

Sighing, Sam gave up and opened her eyes. "Fine! I'll go with the nub just to get away from the whining…"

"What am I? Chopped liver?" Carly knew Sam was the go-to person for a distraction but sometimes it would be nice to be asked.

"Great – now I'm tired _and_ hungry," Sam grumbled, getting up.

Freddie stepped forward to help her but quickly retreated when she glared at him.

"I'm tired, Fredmunch, not crippled." She pushed past him out of the studio and down the stairs.

Carly gave him a 'you should have known better' look before turning to chat with Gibby.

He really should have, Freddie realized. He followed Sam, suddenly not all that anxious to be alone with her.

Spencer looked up from mixing his bucket of papier-mâché when he heard clomping footsteps on the stairs. "Hey, guys," he greeted as they appeared. "What's up?"

Sam skipped the last flight and landed with a thud, leaving Freddie behind. "Tech monkey screwed up the tech. Gotta go fix it." Logically she knew it wasn't his fault but that wasn't going to stop her from blaming him.

"I saw." Spencer gestured to the monitor with his chin as she walked past him, then yelled after her, "Nice save!" Someone was not in a good mood…

Freddie reached the bottom of the stairs as Sam disappeared out the door in a torrent of blonde waves. "Lewbert could've found the hidden camera," he defended himself.

Spencer nodded. "You going with her?" When the younger man just gulped he gave him a sympathetic look. "Good luck."

Anticipating the worst, Freddie shuffled down the hall to meet her.

The second he got on the elevator Sam smacked his arm. Hard. "_Dude_! If you were any less subtle you'd be Lewbert."

He let out the breath he'd been holding. "You're not mad?" Only with Sam did hitting not automatically equal anger. She was complicated that way.

Sam raised a mocking eyebrow. "Why? 'Cause you've been ogling me all day like I'm a piece of meat?" She appreciated the sentiment but he was gonna blow this whole thing out of the water.

"So you noticed that, huh?" he smiled sheepishly.

She was pretty sure anyone who wasn't blind had noticed. "Call it a sixth sense. It also helped me notice you playing with my hair at the lockers."

"I was _not_ playing with your hair," Freddie denied quickly. "I was just covering your neck for the, uh…" He waved his hand around his own neck. "…mark." God forbid she be grateful.

Lifting her hair to show him her unblemished skin Sam snarked, "Thanks for the concern, Fudgeface, but there's nothing to hide; guess you're not as effective as you thought…" She really shouldn't be teasing him about it – when she'd noticed it gone that morning she'd had the fleeting thought that she'd dreamt the whole thing.

Freddie stared at her neck until it was once again hidden by the golden curtain; there was something about having his brand on her that excited him. Shaking his head to dispel the disappointment he spat back, "Well I might have known that if you hadn't avoided me all day!"

Damn right she'd avoided him – she'd needed to keep her distance until she could rebuild the walls he'd managed to break down in one afternoon. After Spencer had dropped her off the night before she'd realized she was playing with fire. Her biggest clue was that instead of going to sleep (when did she ever pass up sleep?) she'd spent the better part of an hour reliving what had happened in the alley. She'd spent the next two mentally berating herself for allowing it to happen at all. "Don't you think you're being a little melodramatic?" she deflected.

They were too busy glaring at each other to pay attention when the 'ding' signaled they'd reached their destination and the elevator doors opened.

He didn't know what to say to that. Was she right? Was he overreacting? The elevator doors started to close so he shot out a foot to block them, then grabbed her wrist and pulled her with him until they'd reached the back stairwell. When he turned back to her the resentment on her face crumbled his resolve and he shifted his gaze to the wall behind her head. "Sam, did I do something wrong?"

_Ugh. _Normally she would let him take the blame (normally she _volunteered_ him for it) but she really didn't need to add breaking the boy's self-confidence to the list of reasons her plan was failing spectacularly. "This is why you dragged me down here with you? To talk?" She cupped his chin and forced him to meet her eyes, giving him a teasing smile. "Can't you just be a normal boy and want to make out?"

Her tone was light so Freddie just sighed. "I think we've already established I'm the girl in this relationship." Though if he'd known making out was an option this encounter might've gone in a different direction entirely…

Sam would have objected to his use of 'relationship' if she weren't so amused by the resignation in his voice. "Yeah, you kinda are," she agreed, tapping his cheek a little harder than could be considered gentle. Unfortunately she also thought it was kind of sweet.

"I just wanted to make sure we were okay after, you know…" He trailed off, not sure he was allowed to speak of it. Come to think of it, there wasn't much that happened between them he _was_ allowed to speak of.

"And you didn't think to just text me at some point?" For a nerd he wasn't so smart sometimes.

He _had_ thought of it… "I wanted to see your face."

Sam gave him a confused look before glancing behind her.

"What are you doing?" Did she hear someone coming?

"Looking for Carly," she said like it was obvious.

Freddie rolled his eyes at her assumption. "I meant I wanted to be face-to-face so I can see if you're telling me the truth." He thought she'd be less likely to lie to him in person, or that he'd be able to read her better.

_Seriously?_ Sam cocked her head to the side. "You _really_ think you can tell when I lie?" Had she taught the boy nothing? At the very least he should have known better than to tip her off about it.

She obviously didn't think he could, going by the tone and arched eyebrow. In hindsight Freddie probably shouldn't have shared his motivation. "I just figured you would…" Suddenly there was barely an inch of space between them and she was gazing up at him with unmistakable affection. Lost in the warmth in her eyes his hands made their way to her waist and he tugged her a mite closer. If this was her way of letting him know they were okay then he'd take it. Happily.

Sam held his stare and, voice filled with sincerity and insecurity, whispered, "I'm in love with you, Freddie Benson."

Freddie was stunned silent, his mind racing at her confession. It wasn't until she stepped out of his grasp and raised a smug eyebrow that he realized she was just making her point. He had to admit she was good – if he didn't know better he would have bought it. Hell, he almost had anyway… "There's no need to be hurtful," he pouted, turning and going to sit on the stairs.

As soon as his back was turned Sam took a steadying breath. Lying convincingly was easy enough; _pretending_ to lie convincingly while telling a half-truth was a little more complicated. She wouldn't have taken the risk at all if it weren't the only way she could think to keep him guessing now that she'd (stupidly) told him how she worked.

Staring at the door Freddie couldn't help but hate her a little. Even though it was her, and even though he should have known she was lying through her teeth, it had been nice to hear those words. To have her take them back was like just another rejection. And he'd had more than enough of _those_ to last a lifetime…

Sam sat next to him, her back against the wall, and toed his leg to get him to look at her. "Whatcha thinking about?"

He sighed and looked down at his hands. "That's not how I imagined first hearing it, you know?" He'd stopped Carly from saying it because he'd known it wasn't the truth. At least Carly had been lying unwittingly.

Oh, she knew all right. He was waiting for Carly to have some epiphany and profess her undying love. Part of Sam felt bad for ruining it for him while the other part knew it was for the best. Nudging her sneakered feet under his arm she rested them in his lap. "Don't worry, kid – one of these years you're gonna fall truly madly deeply in love with some poor chick and she'll love you even trulier, madlier, deeplier."

He turned to her with an amused eyebrow. "Trulier, madlier, deeplier?" Folding his arms to rest on her legs he gave her a half-grin. "You really think so?" Coming from Sam that was a downright compliment.

"_Assolutamente_. You're destined for great things, Fredley," she smiled, waving an arm in the air as though showing him the future. "You're gonna go off to University, meet some awesome girl with questionable taste," she paused to wink, "and become some world-famous producer. You'll have it made."

Resisting the urge to feel her forehead for a fever Freddie decided to take it at face value. It was kinda touching that she had so much faith in him. "What about you?"

"Me?" Sam shrugged. "I'm destined for mediocrity. I'll be happy to graduate high school, maybe community college if I can find the motivation." There was nothing really grand in Sam's future; she was aiming for just being able to support herself without sponging off of men for the rest of her life.

"You're not coming to University with us?" The subject had come up countless times before and she'd never said she wouldn't be going. Although now that he thought about it he realized whenever they had those discussions she never said much at all. "Is it about the money?"

Sam shook her head. "Nah; I could get the money."

He didn't ask from where; he didn't want to be forced to testify against her in court. "Then what?"

"Have you seen my grades?" she laughed it off. "No way I'd get into the schools you guys want to go to."

Maybe she wasn't very book-smart (mostly due to her laziness) but Freddie knew for a fact she was intelligent; she just chose to use it for evil instead of school. "There's still next year – we can get your grades up."

Sam swallowed hard, trying not to let the 'we' affect her. "Too much work. Anyway, I'd just end up holding you and Carly back."

He slapped her leg to let her know he didn't agree, or like it when she belittled herself. "But who would remind us there's more to life than studying?"

"You'll find a new slacker friend," she assured him. "Not like me of course – Mama's one of a kind – but there are tons of underachievers out there who'd be thrilled to be you guys' snarky sidekick."

"You're serious about this," Freddie realized. "Sam, I don't want to find someone new – we've barely been apart three days at a time the last four years…" Fully aware she could laugh in his face he admitted, "I'd miss you."

Sam told herself the sudden lump in her throat was because of the stagnant air in the stairwell. "Aw, I'll miss you too, Nub." She'd gone for condescending but was pretty sure her voice cracking gave her away. She dug her heel into his leg to make up for it.

Freddie didn't fail to notice the finality of her statement; while he kept talking in hypotheticals she was stating facts. He was surprised at how much the thought of leaving her behind bothered him; how over the years he'd gone from actively wanting her to disappear to feeling empty at the possibility of her being gone.

His hold around her legs had tightened almost painfully but Sam didn't mention it, mostly because he was looking at her like she'd just fried his hard drive. Again. To lighten the mood she joked, "Anything else you need to get off your bosoms while we're down here?"

Ignoring the jab at his masculinity Freddie turned his attention back to the door. "Can I ask you something?"

Sam's brain screamed at her to say no. "Of course." _Dammit_.

He took a deep breath, still not looking at her. "How come you're only like this when we're alone?"

She could've kicked herself for not going with her instincts. "Like what?"

She was doing it on purpose to put him on the spot and unfortunately it was working. "I don't know… dare I say 'nice'?"

"Mama doesn't do 'nice,'" Sam argued facetiously.

"Yes, she does," Freddie disagreed, then shook his head at himself for falling into her habit. "You're always nice to Carly, and Spencer, and non-food animals, and you're mostly nice to Gibby and small children." He finally turned to meet her gaze. "And you're nice to me, but usually only when we're alone. What's up with that?"

"I think you're under the mistaken impression that I'm the only one who changes when we're alone." She raised an eyebrow in challenge, hoping to put him on the defensive enough to drop it.

Freddie was too curious to back down now. "What do you mean?"

Sam gave in, but not without a demeaning tone. "_I __mean_, it's cause and effect: you're less annoying so I'm less mean." She tried to reclaim her legs but he held firm. "We need to go fix the feed…"

"No. Sam, I want to talk about this." It wasn't a big surprise that she was putting it on him but he at least deserved to know why.

"Well, I don't." That would just lead to sharing chiz she'd rather not say out loud.

Talking was part of the deal so Freddie felt well within his rights, though he did start to massage her calves to placate her some. "How can I annoy you _less_ when we're alone?" If anything he should annoy her more 'cause all his attention was on her and vice-versa; she had less things to distract her if (when) he was irritating.

Sam narrowed her eyes at his ministrations but didn't comment. "'Cause Spencer isn't around for you to be all geeky with, or Carly for you to kowtow to." More the second than the first – alas the geekiness had somewhat grown on her.

Freddie pouted at her, hurt. "Kowtow?"

"What? I like it." She forced a dreamy smile. "Makes me think of a truck full of steaks…"

Of course it did. Still… "It's like worship, Sam…"

"I know what it means, _Freddie._" She'd had another (hyphenated, less PC) word in mind to describe him but he would have liked that one even less.

Freddie's hands ceased their rubbing, and this time when she went to take her legs back he didn't stop her. "I do not _worship _Carly," he denied with a shake of the head. _What __the __hell?_

The boy may have known what 'kowtow' meant but 'self-aware' was obviously _not_ in his vocabulary. Pulling her knees up to her chin Sam wrapped her arms around her legs and looked at him dubiously. "Really? How many times have you openly disagreed with her? Or told her 'no'?"

He couldn't think of anything off the top of his head but that didn't mean it hadn't happened. "That's a little bit of an exaggeration, don't you think?"

Sam had six years of examples at her disposal but didn't feel like getting into them. "Whatever you say, Fredlumps." She hadn't wanted to have this conversation anyway.

It bugged that she was pretty much saying he was an emasculated lapdog. Raising an eyebrow he hit back, "You're just mad I don't take your side all the time."

Or, you know, _ever_. "You're right. It usually ends with me getting sucked into someone else's chiz." Sam had enough of her own chiz to deal with, though that wasn't the only reason it bothered her. For authenticity she added, "Ginger Fox? Ricky Flame? Lewbert & Marta? That Joshua guy?" All _bad _ideas, none of them hers.

At least _they_ were trying to help people. "Like _your_ plans always work out? Offering Carly up like prize cattle for the Girl's Choice dance?"

That was a reminder Sam could have done without. "I'm surprised you consider that plan a failure," she admitted wryly. It had certainly worked out well for him. Sadly Sam's plans only seemed to backfire on her.

"Why? 'Cause I got to tease you for being turned down by Gibby?" God forbid he get to repay her a fraction of the emotional torment she heaped on him. "It's not like our night was any better..."

Sam wanted to tell him to sell his sob story elsewhere. "Yeah, you guys told me." Conveniently leaving out the part about the dance, of course. They were such hypocrites, breaking the 'no more secrets' rule before the month was even out. "Can we go now?"

The hitch in her voice told him he was missing something. "What's wrong?" _He_ was having his character attacked yet _she _was upset. Go figure.

Burying the resentment as she had so many times before she told him, "It's nothing." Nothing new, anyway.

And he was Barbara Streisand in drag. Moving his hand to her chin he forced her to look at him. "If it makes you feel any better I wished you were there."

Sam raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"It's true." Knowing she took back-handed compliments better than straight ones he gave her a crooked grin and mock-whispered, "If someone had to make my night miserable I'd have much rathered it be you."

Sometimes Sam thought he knew her _way_ too well. Smiling genuinely she moved his hand from her face to his leg with a patronizing pat. "You've got issues, Freddison."

_He _had issues? _She _was the one so easily cheered by the thought of torturing him. Issues aside, though, her predictability was comforting. "So we're good?"

Sam bumped his shoulder with hers. "Yeah, we're good." She'd learned a long time ago there was no point in staying mad about things that were beyond her control. "We should go fix your nerd stuff and get back upstairs."

She stood, and Freddie grabbed her hand to keep her from walking away. When she tilted her head at him quizzically he took a deep breath and confessed, "There's nothing to fix."

"You said the feed wasn't transmitting…" she reminded him, eyes narrowed.

He suppressed the urge to cringe under her scrutiny. "It wasn't transmitting 'cause I never opened it…"

Shaking her head she argued, "But you said you needed me to distract Lewbert…" There was no way…

"I lied, okay?" He hadn't quite gotten the hang of the whole 'manipulating the truth' thing just yet...

Sam was ashamed he'd managed to snow _her_, of all people. "You _sabotaged_ the show just to get me down here?"

Freddie couldn't tell whether her raised eyebrow was of the 'You're not capable of such deviousness' kind or the 'You have thirty seconds before I kill you' kind. "What can I say?" he breathed up at her with a mischievous grin, "I learned from the best…" When in danger appeal to her ego…

_Damn __him._ Sam tried to maintain the stern face but it cracked and she felt herself returning the smile. "I think you're getting too big for your britches, _grasshopper_…"

Underneath the half-hearted reprimand Freddie suspected she was at least a little proud. Hoping to capitalize on it he pulled her to stand between his knees. "So..." He moved his hands to the backs of her thighs and gave her his best flirty look. "Does that mean making out is still an option?"


	8. Chapter 8

Freddie stepped back and parried before aiming a thrust of his own at his opponent, making contact and scoring a point. He realized belatedly that Colin wasn't even attempting to parry, and that the din of blade on blade in the studio had stopped entirely. Turning to see what had caused the sudden silence he found Sam standing in the doorway.

"At ease, boys. I'm here for the Fredward." Sam nodded her head in his direction. Well, what she _thought_ was his direction; there were like ten guys wearing those silly mask things and it was hard to tell. What _wasn__'__t_ hard to tell was that they were all looking at her from within them, frozen in the positions they were in when she'd come in. Like someone had hit the pause button. _Creepy. _Pulling out her phone she snapped a picture for the website; she'd think of a witty caption for it later. Or maybe turn it into a contest…

To say Freddie was shocked to see her wouldn't be an exaggeration – she hadn't set foot in the studio since his match with Doug Toder, and they weren't supposed to meet up until later for movie-night (and 'Wake up Spencer'). "Be right back," he told Colin, taking off his mask and walking up to her with a quizzical expression.

Relieved that she hadn't pointed out the wrong guy (_that_ would've been embarrassing), Sam cocked her head at the others who had finally (thankfully) started to move again. "I'm guessing you don't get too many visitors of the female variety in here."

"Fencing doesn't really attract the chicks," he admitted. Not that he needed to tell her that – she'd been teasing him about it ever since he took up the sport.

"You're surprised?" she snarked, eyebrow raised. "It consists entirely of boys in namby-pamby bodysuits trying to 'touch' each other with phallic symbols…"

Freddie's lips formed a pout. "What are you doing here, Sam?" He _had_ been happy to see her…

_Aw_. He was so sensitive sometimes. "I was on my way to help Carly get ready for her date and thought you and your nub costume could use a ride." Realizing it sounded considerate she added, "You know, so you don't get beat up on the bus again." _Fail_.

It was nothing, just some guys hassling him the month before, but it was nice to know she cared. "It's only three o'clock; why are you going so early?"

"You know Carly: she's going to spend hours agonizing over what to wear while I tell her everything looks great and try not to die of boredom." Sam faked a snore. Sometimes she hated being BFFs with a daffodil. "So are you ready to go?"

Freddie looked to find Colin waiting impatiently. He turned back to her with a helpless sigh. "I can't – I'm in the middle of a match."

"I can wait," Sam shrugged. "Between Carly and my mom it feels like most of my weekends are spent getting other people ready for dates anyway…" She'd given up on dating when she'd realized there was no point – she always found something wrong with whatever guy she was with. All the times she'd told (ordered) Freddie to move on she'd never thought she'd have such a hard time following her own advice.

And there went the hope that she just wanted to spend time with him. "I'll try to make it quick." When she just waved him away Freddie made his way back over to Colin. "Sorry…"

"Dude, I didn't know you have a girlfriend. She's kinda hot…"

Kinda? Freddie knew Sam wasn't hot in the traditional 'revealing clothes and high heels' sense, but still. "She's not my girlfriend," he muttered, putting his mask back on.

"Seriously? Then you wouldn't mind introducing us…"

"You're not her type." Taking his starting position Freddie raised his saber, effectively ending the conversation. _"__En __garde!__"_

Sam pretended to do whatever on her phone while discreetly watching the match; there was no need for Freddie to think she approved of his pastime. When it was over and he came to sit with her she made as though she didn't notice him.

Freddie wiped his face with his towel then nudged her with his water bottle to get her attention and offer it to her.

"Did you win?" she asked in a disinterested tone, taking a drink before handing it back to him.

"Not that you care," Freddie griped, "but yeah, I did." He took a drink himself then put the bottle back in his bag. "So what happened last night?" The trio had been supposed to hang out but Sam's mom had unexpectedly taken her out of school during last period. He and Carly had been worried until she texted to say her mom was going away for the weekend with her new boyfriend and they were on an impromptu shopping trip, but that she'd try to make it later. She'd never shown. Needless to say, listening to Carly talk about the new kid Trevor Harland and their upcoming date wasn't exactly how he'd pictured spending his Friday night.

Sam groaned at the reminder. "Four hours of shopping followed by another three of helping my mom get dressed and packed. By the time she left it was eleven and I was exhausted." She put her phone in her pocket and gave him a wry smile. "On the plus side I got her to shave her legs _and_ her pits. And I get the car for the weekend." They couldn't afford a second car so Sam only got it when her mom wasn't using it. Or loaning it out to random strangers.

"Wow. That's like twice this year isn't it?" Freddie was amazed Sam was as clean as she was considering her mother's laid-back approach to hygiene.

"Yup. She really likes this guy; maybe he'll be around for more than a week…" Getting up she motioned, _"__Vámonos!__"_

Freddie looked up at her with a mischievous grin. "I've got a better idea."

Eyes narrowed – she really didn't trust his definition of 'better' – Sam asked warily, "And what would that be?"

"I want to teach you how to fence." He stood up beside her and waited for her reaction.

"Nuh-uh. No way." She shook her head vigorously, sending blonde curls flying. "Nub by association is bad enough."

Most of the others had gone, leaving them with one guy who was packing up his things. "Oh, come on. You're teaching me to lie…" At her less than impressed look he rephrased, "…to creatively tell the truth. Let me teach you how to fence."

"There's a difference, Freddifer," Sam pointed out. "One is useful and the other is _fencing_."

Freddie hid his hurt with rolling eyes. "Well I'd offer to teach you tech but I have a suspicion you're quite the little closet programmer." When she didn't deny it, or give in, he tried again. "Come on…it'll be fun. You get to hit me with a pointy stick…" he promised hopefully. She always wanted to hit him with a stick.

Sam rolled her eyes back at him. "Fine," she groaned, poking him in the chest. "But I'm not wearing this."

"Sam, you have to; it's the rules." He didn't want to push her but it was an issue of safety.

"When have I ever followed the rules?" She was _not_ going to look like a cotton ball just so she could do something she didn't even want to do. "Anyway, it's not like there's anyone here to enforce them." She waved around the empty room.

God, she was stubborn. "I don't want you to get hurt, okay?"

Sam blinked at him, not knowing how to argue against that. "Ugh. _Fine_." Pointing a finger she threatened, "But if anyone sees me you're gonna be eating your sword."

Laughing, Freddie led her over to the supply closet. _"__Accuerdo.__"_ He helped her put on the jacket and then pulled out 2 foils and a mask.

"I feel like a nub," Sam pouted, poking at her own padded chest.

Freddie couldn't help himself – he leaned down to plant a kiss on her pouty lips. "Yeah, but you're a cute nub," he whispered against her mouth.

Sam reigned in her rampant emotions and pulled back. "Can we just get this over with?"

They spent the next fifteen minutes practicing stances and going over the rules. When that was done Freddie put Sam's mask on her (ignoring her whined protests) then put on his own.

Ten minutes in Sam dropped her foil and pulled off her mask with a huff. "That's it! I'm done." She spat a piece of hair out of her mouth.

"Sam…"

"Don't '_Sam_…' me. I suck at this!" Every time she made a move he just smacked her foil out of the way and scored a point. She appreciated that he wasn't taking it easy on her but did he have to be so good at it? Mama didn't take failure well.

"You're just trying too hard," Freddie soothed. "Fencing isn't about brute strength; it's more about patience and dexterity."

Sam looked at him incredulously. "Have you met me? Those are hardly my strongest qualities."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Really? 'Cause I seem to remember you hiding in my closet for hours just to scare me. As for dexterity, you're the nimblest person I know; you could pick-pocket Danny Ocean."

"Nimblest?" She didn't know how being able to pick the pocket of a fictional character was supposed to help her with fencing but she let it go.

"It's a word!" he defended, bending down to pick up her foil and putting it back in her hand. "Look, for now you need to stop acting and just react. The best offense is a good defense."

And now he was spouting proverbs at her. She was gonna hit him and it wouldn't be with the foil… "What part of me says 'defensive' to you?"

Freddie could see he was fast losing her. "Um… look at it like it's Assassin: You're not going to charge right in because it might be a trap. What you're gonna do is figure out what your opponent's plan is and stay one step ahead of him. Right?"

Sam nodded; finally he was putting it into terms she understood. And didn't want to beat him for.

"Good," he grinned. "So instead of focusing on what _you__'__re_ going to do, you're going to read my body language, figure out what I'm going to do, and react accordingly. If you see a way to make a touch without opening yourself up you take it. _Capisci?_"

Taking the stance he'd shown her Sam muttered "Capisco" before slipping the mask back on. She didn't like how much of a pushover she was becoming; her plan had better work or she was moving to L.A.

Freddie copied her actions. _"__En __garde.__"_

Sam was loathe to admit it but she was actually having fun. Not only did it give her an excuse to watch Freddie's every move, it also made her feel kinda powerful now that he wasn't completely kicking her butt. He was still winning (_obviously_ – he'd had far more practice and she had a hard time controlling her aggressive urges) yet she was able to hold her own for the most part, even scoring a point or two. It was also the most exercise she'd gotten in, like, ever.

After about a half-hour Freddie lowered his foil and stepped back, taking off his mask. He didn't really want to stop but Sam looked like she was about to collapse. "That's enough for today. You did good."

Taking off her own mask Sam had to fight the impulse to drop to the floor; her arms and legs felt like jelly. "Don't patronize me, Freddison." Damn but she was tired. She wondered if Carly would notice her napping through the pre-date ritual…

"I'm not. A little more practice and you'll be able to win a match or two." He helped her take off the jacket, using all his will-power to not kiss her again, and put it away with the foils. When he turned back to her she was holding out her hand to shake. Relieved she was being a good sport he put his hand in hers.

Sam used all of her remaining energy to turn her body into his and flip him onto his back, quickly straddling his waist. Leaning down she whispered into his ear, "_Mama __still __wins_…"

Freddie shivered from the feeling of her breath on his skin. He should have known by the grin that she was up to no good but was glad he hadn't. Gripping her waist he waited until she sat back up. "That's debatable," he breathed, staring into her sparkling eyes.

Stupid Freddie and his stupid unintentional charm. It wasn't entirely his fault, Sam acknowledged; she kept putting herself in these positions – she just couldn't seem to help herself.

Watching her gaze flicker to his mouth Freddie propped himself on his elbows to get closer to her. He was disappointed when she stood up instead of meeting him.

"Come on, Fredward," she said, offering him a hand up. She had some self-control left, thank God. "We're stopping at the Groovy Smoothie so you can buy Mama a snack…"

* * *

><p>Freddie held the door open for Sam as they left the Groovy Smoothie, careful to keep the bag of food out of her reach.<p>

She growled at him, both for holding the door and withholding her food. "So where to?" His claim that it was too crowded in the shop was completely transparent.

"I thought we could go to the park," he suggested casually, wanting to be alone. He sighed as she started walking away from the park and towards the car.

Reaching the Gremlin Sam juggled their smoothies to open the trunk.

Freddie looked at her like she was nuts. "You're going to stick me in the trunk 'cause I suggested the park?" He'd known it was probably too romantic for her (with him at least) but that was a little excessive…

"I'm getting a blanket, Freddie," she rolled her eyes at him. "If it involves food I'm prepared for it."

Before she changed her mind just to spite him Freddie grabbed the blanket from the trunk.

Sam went to stop him but it was too late. "Oh, you don't want that one…" she winced.

He looked at her, confused. _"__¿Por __qué?__"_

"It's my mom's." She didn't think he needed any more explanation than that. She didn't really want to give more of an explanation than that.

Freddie tossed the blanket away like it was on fire and wiped his hand on his jeans in disgust.

Sam snickered at the violated expression on his face. "You gonna be okay?"

"That's disgusting," he pouted, taking the blanket she handed him.

She closed the trunk and began walking towards the park. "Try living with it…"

Freddie followed her, blanket and food in hand. She led him to a copse of trees off the beaten path, empty and quiet except for the wildlife. "How'd you find this place?"

Sam put the smoothies on the ground then took the blanket from him and laid it out. "I'm a woman of many talents, Fredward." She sat down and held out her hands. "And those talents need fuel…"

Sitting next to her Freddie held the food hostage. "Not until you tell me the truth." Something told him there was a story there.

"I was wandering the park. I found it. _La __fine_." Sam grabbed the bag from him and, deciding to be nice even though he wasn't (he did pay, after all), gave him his burger and fries.

Freddie decided not to push her. Not until she'd eaten at least. He stared at her while they ate, though, trying to irritate her into talking. When that failed he tried, "It's nice here."

"Yeah."

Well, _that_ didn't work. "Aren't you afraid I'm gonna know where you disappear to now?"

Sam's head shot up and she looked at him warily. "What do you mean?"

It had been a hunch but it was clear he'd hit on something. "You knew exactly where this place was and you act like you own it." She acted like she owned _everything_, but still, "I'm thinking you've been here more than just the once…"

"I've spent some time here," she admitted. When she was late for _iCarly_ (or anything, really) it was usually 'cause she'd stopped there and lost track of time (or was in a screaming match with her mother), but he didn't need to know that. Crumpling the food wrappers she put them in the bag then laid back on the blanket.

Freddie had a feeling she had a closer relationship with this place than she let on – it made it all the more touching that she was sharing it with him. Putting his own trash in the bag he laid down on his side next to her, head propped in his hand. "Sam?" He figured now was as good a time as any to ask – she was (hopefully) too busy digesting to beat him up.

"Mmm?" Her tummy was full, the sun was shining (for once), and her eyes were drooping. She wanted to roll into him and go to sleep but didn't.

"What happened to your dad?" He reached out and tilted her face towards him. "You never talk about him."

Sam cocked an eye open. He was getting pretty bold with the touching. And the questions. "You never talk about yours, either." Sliding her hand under his she entwined their fingers and moved them to rest on her stomach. Then turned back to the sky and closed her eye.

Even though she couldn't see it Freddie shrugged. "You never asked." The fact that she hadn't just brushed his hand away wasn't lost on him. Then again she was probably only holding onto it so he couldn't force her to look at him.

"I have a general rule not to ask questions I wouldn't want to be asked." She opened her eyes and raised an eyebrow to emphasize her meaning. When he seemed to take the hint she closed her eyes again and went back to enjoying the feel of the sun on her skin.

Freddie stared at her a while in silence, running his thumb along her hand. "I don't talk about him because I don't know who he is."

She was going to tell him she didn't care but decided they were beyond playing games. Beyond playing _that_ particular game at least. "Your mom won't tell you?" The dude must be a hardened criminal or something. And by hardened criminal she meant jaywalker.

"She doesn't know; it was a one-night stand." Freddie had to laugh at the surprised look on her face. "Believe it or not my mom was pretty wild in her youth…"

That was… completely unexpected. Sam couldn't even begin to imagine Freddie's mom acting like… well, like her mom. "How did she go from being wild to being Crazy?"

No one would ever expect Sam to get a job requiring tact, that's for sure. "When she got pregnant her dad disowned her and wouldn't let anyone else in the family help her out. It wasn't until he died six years ago that the rest started talking to her again, so for a long time I was all she had." It was still a touchy subject for his mom. Even though she was back in the family Freddie didn't think she'd ever truly forgive them for abandoning her.

"Wow. Who needs enemies…" The crazy was a little more understandable; that was some jank hand Freddie's mom had been dealt. Sam gave his hand a sympathetic squeeze. "_Lo __siento_."

It wasn't her fault. "You can't miss what you never had…" Sometimes he wished he had a father to talk to (one would be especially helpful right now, actually) but most of the time it didn't bother him whatsoever. All the same he was comforted when Sam shifted so her body was against his.

It was quiet for a bit, Sam trying to decide whether she was going to let him guilt her into sharing. She shot him a quick glance before muttering, "His name is Delson."

"_¿Qué?__"_ Maybe he'd misheard.

"His parents are Canadian," she shrugged. "Everyone calls him Dell."

"You're half Canadian?" Why that was the part he focused on he didn't know.

Sam glared at him. "I'm a tragedy in two states. Now do you want to hear the story or not?"

He nodded, then realized something. "Wait, so Pam & Sam and Dell & Mel?"

"My mom thought it was cute, okay?" She squeezed his hand until he stopped laughing. "They each picked their 'favorite' when we were born and named us that way."

Freddie raised a disbelieving brow. "You're your mom's favorite?" He'd hate to see how she treated Melanie, then.

"Nah," Sam waved with her free hand. "They chose wrong – big surprise there. Mel was always mommy's perfect little princess and I was daddy's little soldier girl." Her dad had always been better at hiding his preference, though. "Anyway, my mom was mostly normal until he broke her. They were high school sweethearts and when she got knocked up they got married. She was crazy in love with him but he only stayed because of us. We were 6 when he couldn't take it anymore and left."

_Ouch_. Sam's face was emotionless but Freddie knew she was avoiding looking at him. "When was the last time you saw him?"

Sam counted the leaves on a branch above her. "The night he left." He'd kissed them both goodnight as usual and promised to see them soon. Her and Mel hadn't understood what was going on at the time but figured it out when days went by, then weeks, without him coming home. Months later an envelope was delivered to her mom (Sam knew now it was the divorce papers) and it had all been downhill from there. "When the divorce finally went through my mom sold our house, moved us here, and we were forbidden to ever speak of him again."

That explained where Sam's 'don't speak of it' rule came from; apparently if you didn't talk about it, it ceased to exist. "So you don't know where he is?" He moved his arm so he could run his fingers through her hair.

"He's in L.A. with his new family. Turns out his daughter watches _iCarly_ and asked him why we have the same last name. Not too many Pucketts out there…" She laughed without humor. "He must have realized my mom was burning his letters or something because when we got back from Japan there was one waiting for me at school. The first conversation I had with my dad in eight years was from the Principal's office." And what a conversation _that_ had been – she'd turned back into a little girl, asking him why he hadn't loved her enough to stay. Or to take her with him. Ted had been nice enough to leave the room when she'd started crying.

_Japan? _That had been three years before… "You haven't talked to him since?"

Sam shrugged. "I talk to him every once in a while. Franklin lets him call me at school during our appointments." It had been a huge mistake to tell Melanie: not only did she refuse to talk to him but it'd taken Sam's many tricks of persuasion to get her to promise she wouldn't tell their mom. _That_ wouldn't have gone over well.

"And you didn't think to tell me?" Freddie could understand (_maybe_) if it had just been the once, but she spoke to him practically every month? "Does Carly know?"

Hearing the accusation in his tone she defended, "_No_, because it doesn't change anything…"

Freddie released her hand and sat up, shooting her an angry look. "If it doesn't change anything then why keep it from us?"

Covering up how much the pulling away hurt she warned, "Just drop it, Benson." Damn him for making her talk to him and then holding it against her. And damn _her_ for being stupid enough to tell him in the first place…

If she thought he was going to let her intimidate him into backing down she was wrong; it was a huge part of her life and he needed to know why she thought it was okay to keep them in the dark. "Just answer the question, _Puckett_."

Sam sat up so that they were at least level. "Our arrangement doesn't give you the right to _demand_ answers, you know…" They'd never set terms but that sure as hell wouldn't have been one of them.

"Silly me," Freddie hissed, "I thought being your _friend_ did…" That she couldn't see the difference told him just how messed up their relationship was.

She didn't know why he was so offended – he knew she didn't tell them everything – but he wasn't wrong. Keeping secrets was so much easier (and less guilt-inducing) when no one _knew_ she was doing it… Toying with a stray thread on the blanket she avoided his eyes. "He asked me to go live with him and I didn't want you guys trying to talk me into it, okay?"

Freddie blinked; he didn't know what he'd expected but that hadn't been it. "You don't want to go?"

"I don't want to _leave_," Sam corrected, still focused on the frayed fabric. Carly and Spencer (and now Freddie and Ted) were the only things keeping her in Seattle; if it hadn't been for them she'd have told her dad yes before he'd even finished the question.

Putting his hand on hers to still its fretting Freddie whispered, "I don't want you to leave, either…" He knew it was selfish – she'd undoubtedly be happier with her dad than her mom – but if he thought leaving her behind would be hard, her leaving him (them) would be even worse.

How he managed to make her heart skip with just his tone Sam had no idea. She moved to kneel in front of him and tilted his face up to her.

Meeting her misty blue eyes Freddie realized things had just gotten a whole lot more complicated. "Sam, I…"

She cut him off with a heated kiss. Whatever he'd been about to say she didn't want to hear, the conversation already far too emotional for her liking. Only when lack of air became an issue did she pull away.

"Sam…" Freddie blinked up at her dazedly.

"We need to go. I'm already…" As she stood Sam paused to pull out her phone. "…three hours and four missed calls late." One way or the other it was over tonight, she decided. Even if she was losing control over everything else she could still control that…

The girl was going to give him whiplash she changed directions so fast. Shaking his head Freddie stood and helped her pack up. After a few minutes of silence he had a thought. "Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah?" She took the folded blanket from him and handed him the bag with their trash, then looked around to make sure they hadn't left anything.

"If your mom doesn't want to admit your dad exists how come she didn't change your last names?" It seemed like those would be a pretty big reminder…

Sam tugged on his arm to get him walking. "'Cause she may hate my dad but she hates _her_ name even more." That was the official story, anyway. Personally Sam thought it was her mom's way of holding onto him. As much as she despised her mother sometimes (okay, most times) Sam knew this wasn't the life Pam Puckett had envisioned for herself. Being the single mother of six-year-old twins at twenty-six without any marketable skills had just been too much for her to handle.

Freddie was afraid to ask but his curiosity got the better of him. "What is it?"

"You sure you want to know?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. He was going to be disappointed – it really wasn't that bad.

He nodded cautiously. It couldn't be as bad as Huebscher, could it?

"Plimpton," she drew it out and popped the last syllable. "She refuses to go back to being Pam Plimpton."

Raising an eyebrow of his own Freddie argued, "I don't see how Pam Plimpton is any worse than Pam Puckett. They're both…" He changed what he was going to say at the last second. "…strangely alliterate?"

Sam shrugged. "My mom's afraid of blimps."

Freddie gave her the biggest WTF face he could manage.

"I didn't say she made sense!" she defended once she'd stopped laughing.

He nudged her shoulder with his own as they walked. "For what it's worth I'm glad she didn't change it."

Sam feigned indignation. "What's the matter? You don't like 'Sam Plimpton'?"

"Nope," Freddie admitted, smiling. "'Princess Plimpton' just doesn't have the same ring to it, you know?"


	9. Chapter 9

Sorry for how long it's taken me to update - my attention is currently split between two different fandoms. But we are getting to the meat of the story and hopefully the next chapter won't take quite so long...

Just a few notes on the last chapter (if anyone remembers it lol):

1 - I originally had a completely different background worked out for Freddie but iFence killed it with him having Marisa's last name; that was my revision following canon

2 - Regarding Pam's last name, I had picked Plimpton for various reasons a) the joke, obviously b) I imagined Sam's not so distant ancestors could have been Brits who fled to America to avoid the law c) it amused me to think of that classless family of criminals having a somewhat snooty-sounding last name. It was just all in good fun :)

I also want to thank you guys for the reviews, subscriptions, etc. It's nice to know your thoughts and that people are enjoying the story.

I have a Seddie follow-up/episode tag to iPsycho sitting on my hard drive that I'm planning on posting before the sequel airs, so if anyone knows when that's going to be please let me know (I don't get it right away and I don't want to miss the airdate because then I won't post it).

Thanks! And enjoy :)

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><p>"Anybody want anything?" Freddie offered as he headed into the kitchen.<p>

Sam impatiently flipped the remote while she waited for Spencer to load the DVD. "WAHOO PUNCH!"

The shout in his ear made Spencer jerk spastically, sending the 'Galaxy Wars' disc flying across the room. "You did that on purpose!" he hissed at her over his shoulder.

"Nope…" she grinned from her spot on the couch, "but if it's broken I'm _totally_ taking credit..." Without Carly she'd been outvoted on movie choice. She'd invoked veto power (on the grounds that she could make their night a living hell) but they'd given her the synchronized puppy and she'd caved. Stupid pitiful gravy-colored eyes…

"You know I have a copy too, right?" Coming back into the living room Freddie handed Sam her glass with a teasing smirk. "Just for that we should make you watch the super-duper special _extended_ director's cut. Five hours of intergalactic battles and inter-species diplomacy for your entert…"

Sam killed his obvious enjoyment with a swift kick to his shin. The nub really shouldn't be testing his luck. Or her generosity; she was still upset things had gotten so… mushy... earlier.

_OW!_ Shooting her a wounded look Freddie hissed, "_Uncalled __for_!"

"You _breathing_ is uncalled for!" she shot back automatically. Something else to blame the boy for: the downward spiral in the quality of her insults. He really _was_ ruining her.

Getting up to retrieve the wayward DVD Spencer shook a finger at them. "Behave or I'll send you both home…" It was an empty threat: Socko was out of town for the weekend so they were his Saturday night peeps by default. He had a funny feeling that made him pathetic…

Freddie dropped into the armchair and, glaring at Sam, crossed his legs so he could rub his throbbing shin. He got that the rules were different when they weren't alone (not that he'd ever gotten the memo with _either_ set of rules) but it was like their entire afternoon had never happened. Just when he thought things had changed between them she went and reminded him they were painfully the same. Literally.

_Ugh. _Either he was just fishing for sympathy or she'd kicked harder than she'd meant to. Making sure Spencer's back was to them (and mentally cursing herself for being so easily manipulated) Sam reached over and pushed his hand out of the way to massage it for him. It was as close to an apology as he was getting so he'd damn well better appreciate it.

Pain forgotten, Freddie quickly covered her hand with his own. It didn't last long – she pulled away as soon as Spencer got the disc into the player – but it was something. _Baby __steps__…_

For a split second Sam had considered _not _taking her hand back, Spencer be damned, and it only proved more than ever that it had to end tonight; her resistance was getting too fickle (him too _close_) for it not to. Burying the dread (she wouldn't let herself recognize it as disappointment) she forced a mischievous wink at him before shifting her attention to the previews. At least the inanity of the movie would keep her distracted until she could follow through. _Let __the __mocking __begin__…_

Spencer turned off the lights and took his seat opposite Sam on the couch, then looked over to find Freddie with a stupid grin on his face. It really was _sad_ how happy this movie made them… With a stupid grin of his own he sat back to enjoy the show.

They were just over halfway through (with a half-dozen threats of muzzling made at Sam for her running MST3K-esque commentary) when the door opened unexpectedly and Carly shuffled in. Glancing at the DVR Freddie saw it was only ten o'clock.

Carly switched on the lights and tossed her coat on the rack. Turning around she found three sets of curious eyes on her and, not wanting to explain, bypassed them to make her way up to her bedroom.

Freddie exchanged worried looks with Sam and Spencer; the date obviously hadn't gone very well.

"I got this." Sam stood, tossing the remote into Freddie's lap. "She probably just needs someone to offer to beat the scuzz-bag up…" She needed a break anyway – continuously finding things to ridicule was exhausting. Not _hard_, just exhausting.

"I can offer to beat him up…" Spencer pouted. It was _his_ little sister, after all.

Sam looked Spencer up and down appraisingly. "She needs someone to _believingly_ offer to beat him up, Spence…"

"Hey! It's not my fault there are laws against adults hitting minors…" He'd broken a lot of laws in his day, usually unintentionally, but that one was a little more serious than the 'public nuisance' misdemeanors he regularly got slapped with.

"Is it your fault you fight like a little girl?" Sam countered, eyebrow raised.

It was on the tip of Spencer's tongue to deny it… "Yes," he admitted, head hung in shame.

Sam nodded in satisfaction, point sufficiently (and embarrassingly) made.

Freddie grabbed her wrist before she could walk away. "What are you going to do if Carly decides to take you up on it?" It was an outside chance but…

Who did he think he was talking to? Reclaiming her hand Sam lightly thumped his forehead. "I'm going to invite him to play _Parcheesi_, Freddie…" With a roll of her eyes she headed upstairs to check on her best friend.

"Parcheesi," Spencer giggled.

Freddie's eyebrow rose. "You know what Parcheesi is?"

"No idea," Spencer shook his head, "but it's so cool to say! PARcheeseEE…"

Pausing the film Freddie moved to sit on the couch. "Hey, Spence?"

Spencer stopped mid-rolling 'R.' "S'up Freddo?" Parrrrrrr-cheesy. It even sounded funny in his head.

"Can I ask you something?" Freddie needed a man's perspective; Spencer's would have to do. If only he could keep his attention…

Parcheesi (momentarily) forgotten Spencer cautiously invited, "_Sure_..." He hoped it didn't have anything to do with Carly; he tried to stay out of their unrequited love teen melodrama best he could.

"You have to promise not to tell anyone." Freddie looked Spencer in the eye. "Not Carly, or Sam…"

"Can I tell Socko?" Spencer interrupted. He had to be able to tell _someone._

"If Sam got hold of him could he keep it a secret?" Freddie couldn't have her finding out until he figured out what, if anything, he was going to do.

"Dude, if that's your condition you shouldn't be telling _me_." Spencer wasn't ashamed to admit Sam scared him. She was like a domesticated wildcat: tame and lovable until you withheld its food, at which point you _became_ its food. Or something. That's what he was going to get her for Christmas: a really big ball of string…

Weighing the risks Freddie accepted he had no choice, whispering, "I think I like Sam."

_Huh? _"Please rephrase in the form of a question," Spencer instructed in his best Alex Trebek voice. Shooting an anxious glance toward the stairs he turned back to Freddie and hissed, "Or in _non_-crazy talk!"

Freddie had barely opened his mouth to defend himself when Spencer pinched him. "What was that for?" he yelped.

Spencer looked at him wide-eyed. "I'm checking to see if you're dreaming."

"You're supposed to pinch yourself!" Freddie rubbed his arm; he sure was taking a beating tonight.

"How does pinching _myself_ tell me if _you__'__re_ dreaming?" _Duh_.

"Neither of us are dreaming, Spencer!" Freddie would have clarified the whole process if it wouldn't have taken more time than they had. As it was he was keeping one ear trained on the stairs.

"Are you on drugs?" Spencer asked suspiciously.

"No!"

"Did you hit your head? Are you feverish? Should I call your mom?"

"Spencer!" Freddie knocked away the hand that was trying to feel his forehead. "Don't you think you're overreacting just a little?" You'd think he'd just announced he was giving up all tech and moving underground, for God's sake.

"This is a new _iCarly_ segment: 'Gullible Spencer,' right?" He looked around the room for a not-so-hidden hidden camera.

Freddie grabbed Spencer's chin and forced him to meet his eyes. "There's. No. Camera!"

Spencer blinked. "You're serious…"

"Is it that hard to believe?" Freddie decided he would have been better off talking to Principal Franklin. Or his mom.

"Yes!" Jumping up Spencer started pacing. "I mean, you've been in love with Carly since you met her…"

Debating his feelings for Carly wasn't exactly high on Freddie's list of priorities at the moment so he waved it away. "And look where that's gotten me…"

"And you should move on, absolutely." Spencer took a deep breath and tried to unconfuse his thoughts. "But with _Sam_?"

"Why not?" Freddie was insulted on her behalf. "She has her faults but she's _Sam_. Unpredictable and witty and irreverent…"

"And clever and creative and _fun_," Spencer cut in. "I'm not saying she's a bad choice, Fred-man. Heck, if she was 10 years older I'd…"

Freddie death-glared Spencer until he took notice and ceased talking. "Do you have a point?"

"My point?" Resuming pacing Spencer tried to remember what his point was before he got distracted. He clapped his hands together when it came to him. "Sam is awesome but she's not your type."

"What's that supposed to mean?" He wasn't aware he had a type, or that 'awesome' couldn't be it. Suddenly he was insulted on his _own_ behalf.

Spencer raised an eyebrow. "You like the good girls; all polite and kind…" For example, "You love Carly, right? Her and Sam are _nothing_ alike."

Shaking his head Freddie argued, "One example does not a 'type' make."

"Okay, um…" Spencer considered it. "Valerie! She was shy and sweet. Well, until she turned into a traitorous skunk-bag…" Then he was hit with a thought that made him shudder: "And Melanie is like Carly in Sam's body..."

"Valerie doesn't count; she asked _me_ out." Well, technically Carly had asked Valerie out _for_ him but the result was the same – he hadn't been about to say no to the first girl that showed interest in him. "And I only went out with Melanie because I thought she was Sam."

But Spencer wasn't listening; he'd discovered something interesting. "Then there was your thing for Shelb-_y_ Marx, and your ill-fated date with Lesl-_ie_…"

Sighing, Freddie put his head in his hands. He would just have to ride out Spencer's tangent.

"Heck, her name doesn't even fit the rhyme scheme!"

Freddie could have disproved the theory by bringing up Sabrina or Malika but he'd been forbidden to ever speak the former's name again and the less said about the 'magical' dance from hell the better.

Spencer looked off into space. "I guess you could call her Sammy but that would probably be the last thing you called her…"

The thought of anyone calling her 'Sammy' made Freddie cringe, promise of imminent death or not. "Shelby was just a celebrity crush and _you_ emotionally blackmailed me into dating Leslie." He snapped his fingers to get Spencer's attention back. "You _still_ only have Carly."

Spencer sat back down and gave Freddie a sympathetic pat. "You have a depressing lack of relationship experience…"

"Thanks for the reminder," Freddie muttered. Good thing he hadn't come to Spencer for a _pep __talk_.

"Sorry, Bud." Spencer refocused on the issue at hand. "But why the sudden feelings for Sam? You guys have been…" He shot a quick glance at the stairs and rephrased, "…_knowing_ each other for years." He was probably safe from Sam's usual punishment for anyone with the audacity to call them friends but wasn't willing to test it. Besides, most of the time he wasn't sure they _were _friends. He'd asked the Magic Meatball once but all he'd gotten was 'Reply hazy, ask again.' If the Meatball didn't know…

Freddie knew why Spencer had suddenly switched tracks so he ignored how he'd made it sound. "We may have _known_ each other for years but she's always kept me at arms length. It's like all of the torture was to keep me from getting too close." He'd spent a lot of time thinking about it, especially since he'd found out how calculating she was about everything.

Spencer sat back and gave Freddie a skeptical look. "Why would she do that?" He thought the poor boy was in denial but refrained from saying so.

"Why does Sam do anything?" Freddie sighed. He didn't know himself, and he couldn't very well tell Spencer it was different now because he was trading sex for information; it sounded kinda sordid when put that way… "But she's finally letting me in. We've been spending a lot of time together what with the website and Carly being busy and she's actually been… not vicious." She was being the _opposite_ of vicious but that was another thing he couldn't tell Spencer.

And _now_ it made sense. Spencer ruffled Freddie's hair with a teasing, "You're Sam's substitute girlfriend…"

Smacking his hand away Freddie groaned, "Spencer! _Concentrate_!" It was like trying to get water from a stone…

"On what?" Spencer huffed, "You never asked your question!"

Okay, he had him there. But, "That's 'cause you were too busy playing 'Let's dissect Freddie's romantic history!'"

Before he could stop himself Spencer joked, "Or lack of it?" At Freddie's glare he got serious. "Sorry. Ask away…"

Freddie took a deep breath. "Do you think I should tell her?"

_Oh._ Spencer shook his head gravely. "No."

"No?"

"H-E-Double Hockey Sticks _no_?"

"Spencer! Can you _try_ to be helpful?"

"Sorry."

Sighing, Freddie leaned back and stared at the ceiling. "Is it that bad an idea?"

Worst idea in the _history_ of ideas. Spencer gestured to Freddie's thumbs even though the boy wasn't looking. "Sam _has_ been known to become violent at unwanted advances…"

As far as Freddie knew they weren't _unwanted_ – she didn't seem to have any issues making out with him – but he didn't know that wasn't _all_ it was for her. "You don't think she could like me?"

"You're not even sure _you_ like _her_," Spencer pointed out, trying to spare his feelings. "No reason to open that can of worms unless you know you want to go fishing." Realizing what he'd said he shook his head, eyes wild. "Don't tell Sam I compared her to a fish – I think she's still a little sore about my tuna sculpture…"

Freddie nodded distractedly. It wasn't really the advice he'd been looking for but maybe Spencer was right; Sam wasn't exactly letting him in out of the kindness of her heart. The sound of the girls' footsteps on the stairs had him frantically miming at the older man to play along. "And when Nug-Nug gives that speech to the Andarian council? Gets me every time…"

Sam glared at them from the landing. Here she was averting a Carly crisis of epic proportions and they were _geeking __out_?

Catching on Spencer nodded vigorously. "I know! And when…" He pretended to suddenly see them. "Oh, hey kiddos!"

"Move, Nub," Sam told Freddie as she led Carly to the couch.

"ROWR!" Spencer hissed, including a clawing motion for authenticity. When everyone just looked at him blankly he realized the wildcat thing had been in his head. "Never mind," he muttered, disappointed his cleverness would go unappreciated.

Freddie went back to the chair and let out the breath he'd been holding. Either Sam hadn't heard anything (mercifully) or she was saving it for when they were alone (God help him); no point worrying about it now.

Retaking her seat Sam pulled Carly down between her and Spencer, the brunette's head immediately falling to her shoulder. _Poor __kid._

"Do you want to watch something else?" Spencer offered, frowning at the sadness on his sister's face. She wasn't the biggest 'Galaxy Wars' fan. Less than Sam, even.

Carly shook her head without lifting it; no need to ruin their night, too. "Could you get me some lemonade, though?"

Petting her hair Spencer got up to do as she asked. "Anything for my little sis…"

"You didn't have to pause it," Sam informed Freddie with a wave at the screen, her tone more accusatory than appreciative. She'd expected (hoped) the movie would be mostly done by the time she got back…

_Uh_… "I wanted to," he covered quickly. Her suspicious eyebrow told him it was _too_ quickly and, thinking fast, he added with a smirk, "Why should you be denied the pleasure just because you're a good friend?"

Sam narrowed her eyes but let it go. It wasn't unlike something she'd do…

On his way back with Carly's drink Spencer turned off the lights and gestured to Freddie to restart the movie. Now that he _could_ watch it (Sam had thankfully fallen silent) he barely did, instead splitting his time between checking on his sister and sneaking glances at Sam to see if he could somehow decipher how she felt about Freddie. By the closing credits his eyes were drooping from the effort.

"Thank _God_," Sam groaned, and not only because the movie was over; Carly had fallen asleep wrapped around her arm almost instantly and the blood was most definitely not flowing. "Spence, a little help here?"

"Mmmm."

Turning to Freddie she tilted her head in Spencer's direction. "Think you can wake Sleeping Beauty? I'm kinda lacking in mobility…"

Freddie got up and nudged Spencer. When the elder Shay's eyes opened he whispered, "You need to put Carly to bed."

Spencer stood and stretched before bending to scoop up his sister.

"Ow. Arm. Arm. _ARM_." It took a lot of talent to yell while whispering but Sam did it, finally managing to untangle herself while standing. Shaking her arm to regain feeling she watched as Spencer disappeared up the stairs with his package. "We still on for tonight?"

"Spencer won't know what hit him," Freddie smiled as he went to turn on the light.

_Neither __will __you__… _If Sam had her way (and she _would_) there wouldn't be any 'Wake up Spencer' at all…

Spencer came back down the stairs, half-asleep. "You guys heading home?"

Sam shook her head. "I've got to watch another movie to get the geek out of my brain." And put her plan into motion…

Paranoia kicked in. "You are going to go home though, right?" Lately she only slept over for 'Wake up Spencer,' and 'Wake up Spencer' always meant strange dreams. And while Spencer was generally a _big_ fan of strange he'd already had more than enough of it for one night.

"Of course," Sam assured him. _Eventually._

"I'm gonna keep her company," Freddie readily volunteered. Considering their conversation earlier it was the perfect cover.

Spencer wasn't surprised but he _was_ worried his advice had gone in one ear and out the other. Giving Freddie a 'remember what I said' look he shuffled off to his room. "Okay. Night…"

"Night..."

As soon as Spencer's door closed Sam turned to Freddie with narrowed eyes and arms folded across her chest. "Care to tell me what _that_ was about?"

Freddie's smile died a quick death. _Crap._


	10. Chapter 10

Happy Thursday, everyone! Yes, this story is still going. It's very difficult to write but it's still going. A few notes:

- To Volleyball: I prefer Freddie liking Sam first, too, both because him being more vulnerable is true to the characters and also because if it's the other way around there's always the possibility that he's settling in a 'Carly doesn't want me but Sam does so let's just go with that' way. For this reason alone I don't really like the way it played out on the show, but hopefully that will be addressed in the future.

- Full disclosure: I actually started out a Spam shipper. But then Freddie grew on me despite his obsession with Carly and the (Seddie) subtext became more intriguing to me than the (Creddie) text

- There is some talk of sex in this chapter so reader beware. Next chapter will actually earn the T rating.

- We are now officially entering the 'angst' portion of this story. It will be a lot more emotional going forward and the characters might not always be likeable to some. This chapter in particular is sure to rub some people the wrong way but it's the tone of the story, as uncomfortable as it might be. I do want to hear honest thoughts and opinions but please no hate mail ;)

- Thank you to everyone for sticking with me and reading/ reviewing!

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><p><em>Last time:<em>

As soon as Spencer's door closed Sam turned to Freddie with narrowed eyes and arms folded across her chest. "Care to tell me what _that_ was about?"

Freddie's smile died a quick death. _Crap._

* * *

><p>While his brain struggled to come up with a believable story Freddie stalled, "What do you mean?"<p>

Sam rolled her eyes. "I'm not stupid, Freddie – I know you guys were talking about something while I was upstairs…" Their bad acting when she'd come back had raised her suspicions; now she had no doubt.

"Of course we were talking," he laughed awkwardly, "We weren't going to just _stare_ at each other…" A supply of ready-made diversions would be useful for situations such as this, especially since he sucked so hard at coming up with them on the spot.

Yeah, that wasn't shady _at __all_. Sam would bet good money he was too shy to talk to Spencer about their deal but she had to make sure; not only would it complicate things, she'd also have to kill him. "Were you asking him for pointers?" she teased, knowing he'd be more likely to confess if he didn't think she'd be angry.

It took Freddie a second to figure out what she was talking about. "Sam! _No_!" He couldn't believe she'd even think that. That was just… _ew_. "It wasn't about our 'thing' if that's what you're implying…"

She searched his face for any sign he was lying and found none. "Okay."

Freddie blinked. "Okay?" He'd given it two minutes before he was on the ground _begging_ to tell her.

"Yeah," she shrugged, sitting back down. If they weren't talking about that then they were probably talking about Carly, in which case she really didn't want to know. "Maybe you should, though."

"Should what?" He was still trying to process the fact that she'd given in.

"Ask Spencer for pointers," Sam smirked up at him. "He's got _mad_ skills…" She knew it was mean but the thought of them celebrating Carly's failed date wasn't leaving her feeling particularly kind.

_Huh_? Freddie had just gone from confused to completely bewildered, and he had to work to keep the accusation out of his voice. "How do you know what skills he has?"

"Relax, Fredley; one of his girlfriends told me." She'd really expected the boy to be smart enough to know if she'd asked him to be her _first_ she couldn't have slept with Spencer…

Sitting next to her he scrunched up his nose, not as relieved as he probably should have been. "You talk to Spencer's girlfriends about their… relations?"

_Relations? _What century was he living in? "Only that one – she was an oversharer. Remember a couple of months ago we had to cancel rehearsal 'cause Carly looked like she'd been licking the swing set?"

"Ah." It all made sense now. Carly had been fine when he went home for supper and green at the gills when he got back. "And you guys couldn't just walk away?"

Sam laughed. "Oh, Carly did. Ran away screaming, actually…" Sometimes she thought her best friend should just join a convent already.

That he could see. "And you?"

"Are you kidding? Pass up the chance for blackmail material?" She 'tsk'ed and gave him a 'you don't know me at all' look. "Sadly she only had good things to say about him." _Really_ good things. And what a surprise that had been; Sam had expected to find out he was as spastic _in_ the bedroom as he was outside of it.

Between Spencer's 'if she was 10 years older' and Sam's appreciation for his 'talent' Freddie was beginning to think there was something going on there. And he didn't like it. Tone a mixture of resentment and petulance he suggested, "If he's so good why don't you ask _him_ to be your first?"

_Passive __aggressive __much? _After years of feeling like the runner-up Sam saw her opportunity for a little payback, a taste of his own medicine _per __se_, and couldn't let it pass. Giving him a hopeful smile she breathed, "You think he would?"

Freddie opened his mouth to say something but couldn't form coherent thoughts, much less words. Her capacity for cruelty had just reached a whole new level.

The devastation on his face told Sam she'd taken it too far, and instead of feeling vindicated she just felt guilty. "Freddie…"

"Don't." Brushing her hand aside he stood to leave. A week ago he would've pretended her words didn't affect him; right now, especially after today, he couldn't even look at her.

Sam jumped up to put herself between him and the door, holding her hands up in surrender. "It was just a joke…" In poor taste, _meant_ to wound, but still just a joke.

"Well it wasn't _funny_!" The thought of her with Spencer was actually the furthest thing from funny he could imagine at the moment, his chest tight and his throat burning. He pulled the door open only to have her lean back to slam it.

"_Okay_." Last week it would have been funny, she thought. Last week he would've just rolled his eyes and she wouldn't have cared either way. What she wouldn't give for it to be last week again…

It _wasn__'__t_ okay, and he was tired of pretending it was whenever one of her mood swings hit. "I have no idea what to expect from you anymore," he hissed, "You're freaking _bipolar_!" From nice to nasty and back again in seconds…

There was a good chance she _was_ but that was beside the point. Cupping his cheeks she forced him to look her in the eye. "I'm _sorry._"

He grabbed her hands and pulled them roughly from his face. "'_Sorry_'doesn't magically make it better!" 'Sorry' didn't erase the image from his mind, or stop his heart from racing a mile a minute.

His fingers were tight around her wrists but she didn't comment on it, just met his gaze evenly and whispered, "I don't want Spencer to be my first, okay? I want _you_." Saying the words aloud hurt more than his grip.

In one swift movement he had her hands pinned to the door above her head and his body pressed against hers. Staring into her wide eyes for a heated second he descended to kiss her with all the anger and pain he was feeling. _Damn __her._

Sam gasped at the force behind the kiss, craning her neck to better receive it. She wanted her hands back so she could touch him, hold him to her (and maybe never let him go) but she knew he needed to be in control right then; knew she needed to _let_ him be in control. And somewhere in the back of her mind she recognized that she'd lost control long before _right __then_.

After what seemed like hours Freddie broke away and leaned his forehead against hers to pant, _"__De __nuevo__…"_ He didn't know if he believed her but he needed to hear it again anyway.

Sliding her hands free Sam eased him away so she could make eye contact, her heart contracting at his expression. Repeated rejection had really done a number on the boy's self-esteem, and she knew Carly wasn't the only one to blame. She'd spent years belittling him every chance she got, first because he was a constant reminder that everyone preferred the Carlys (and Melanies) of the world, and then to punish him for the feelings she'd finally (horrifyingly) realized she had for him. Neither were his fault, not really, but hurting him was so much easier than acknowledging her own pain. "Freddie…" In that moment she would have done anything to reassure him she _had_ meant it, but the sound of feet hitting the floor thankfully kept her from saying something she'd regret. "Spencer just got up."

Freddie narrowed his eyes skeptically. "Do you have super-hearing, too?" It wasn't until he heard the bedroom door open that he realized it wasn't just an excuse to escape.

"I don't like being surprised," she shrugged, tamping down on the instinct to push him away. It wasn't really a position she wanted to be found in but the alternative was renewing his fears where Spencer was concerned; she'd made her bed and she was going to have to lie in it.

She didn't need to say anything for Freddie to know how uncomfortable she was. Taking a nervous breath he pulled away. "I'll get the popcorn, you get the movie?"

"Sure." As he walked away she sighed in relief and moved to her bag.

Coming into the living room Spencer spotted Freddie on his way to the kitchen. "Is everything okay? I heard…" He trailed off when he saw Sam with her head in her backpack. Tilting his chin towards her he sent a curious glance Freddie's way.

Freddie subtly shook his head, knowing the older man thought he'd spilled the beans and Sam had taken off.

"My fault," Sam admitted, looking at the elder Shay. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

"S'okay." Spencer hadn't actually been asleep; he'd been lying in bed worrying about Freddie's tendency to wear his heart on his sleeve, and the slamming of the door had seemed to confirm his fears. He'd given the younger man a few minutes to himself before heading out to see if he could help but apparently wasn't needed. "I'm just gonna… go back to bed." He pointed his thumb in that general direction then followed it without another word.

Sam fought the urge to feign being sick and run. When she'd come up with this stupid plan she'd hoped they'd have sex, she'd get him out of her system, and all would be right with the world. She'd known it was a long shot but she'd had to try _something_, and it might have worked if she'd gone with her gut and refused his stupid condition. _Instead_ her stupid crush was on the verge of becoming something else, something _far_ more dangerous, and she couldn't shake the nagging feeling that sleeping with him now wouldn't do anything but make it worse. Which was funny because last week she would have sworn it couldn't _get_ any worse, which had lead to the stupid plan…

Leaning against the counter to wait for the popcorn Freddie watched Sam move around the living room. Whatever doubts he'd had about his feelings for her were cleared up by his reaction to the thought of her with Spencer. Only she could elicit so many conflicting emotions from him at the same time; she was like a magnet – no matter what she did to him or how much she tried to push him away he couldn't help but be drawn to her. Always _had_ been, if he were being honest. Except now more than her approval he wanted _her_, all of her, and he thought he may have just ruined his chance of having her. _No_, he hadn't opened the can of worms but he'd pretty much announced he was far more invested in this fishing trip than he was supposed to be.

So Sam had a choice to make: call it off now before it _could_ get worse, tell the boy he was too needy and it wasn't what she'd signed on for, _or_ go through with it tonight and pray to God she got out with most of her heart intact. Neither option was very appealing – either purposely hurt him (_again_) or possibly lose what little hold she had left – but she couldn't see any other way out of this mess without coming clean. And she'd make out with Nevel before she'd ever do _that_.

Bowl in hand, Freddie turned out the light and made his way to the couch before hesitating. No one was around but he didn't know if she even _wanted_ him sitting next to her; half-expected her to tell him she'd reconsidered and he wasn't worth the trouble after all.

Sam looked up with an arched brow, ready to ask him if he was planning on standing all night, but the uncertainty in his eyes made her realize she'd already messed with his head more than enough, and option one came off the table faster than she could inhale a burrito. Sighing, she moved to the middle cushion and pulled her legs up on the other side. _In __for __a __penny, __in __for __a __pound._

Freddie handed her the popcorn as he sat, then pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and arranged it carefully around them. She may have moved, given up her seat even, but he could tell she wasn't happy about it. Avoiding conversation that involved his neediness or Spencer he settled on, "So what happened with Carly?"

_Well, __that __didn__'__t __take __long. _Sam had to force her hand to loosen around the remote. "_Cabrón_ only asked her out to get Charlene Walsh's attention; ditched her at the club to go grab a burger with the skunk-bag…"

_Ouch._ "How come she didn't call us to go get her?" At least she wouldn't have had to take the bus while upset, and Sam would have gotten to miss some of the movie. Better yet, they could have gotten rid of Spencer for a while…

Boy would have given up 'Galaxy Wars' in a hot second to ride to the rescue, Sam was sure. "'Cause she was embarrassed – it took fifteen minutes of Mama's special brand of boy-hating just to get her to tell me what happened." Glaring at the T.V. screen she vowed, "Dude may be new but he's gonna learn real quick you don't mess with Sam Puckett…" And if she got to vent some frustrations at the same time it was just an added bonus.

That tone never meant anything good. "Sam, the guy's not worth getting suspended over. Or arrested…" One was just as likely as the other with her.

"I'm not going to hurt him…" Glancing at him out of the corner of her eye she added under her breath, "_physically_…" The more prolonged the suffering, the more satisfying it was. It was just about the only thing she had to look forward to right now.

Freddie almost felt sorry for the guy; her non-physical retaliations had a tendency to hurt more than the physical ones. Just ask Jake Krandall. "You know Carly wouldn't want…"

"Are you _done_?" Sam snapped, starting the movie without waiting for an answer. Even when Carly _wasn__'__t_ in the room she was in the room. How in the hell was she supposed to seduce the nub (or even _want_ to) when his brain consistently went back to Carly?

He'd had no choice but to play the Carly card – she was usually the only one Sam listened to – but he realized belatedly he shouldn't have brought the date up at all; Sam tended to take affronts against her friends personally and mentioning it had only worsened her mood. Sighing, he sank back into the cushion, flinching when she sat forward to avoid contact.

Moving, like the snapping, had been instinctive; an automatic response to being upset that Sam never would have allowed a week ago. The longer this pseudo-dating farce went on the more careless she was getting, the constant raising and lowering of her defenses taking its toll and making her sloppy. Hopefully after tonight she'd be able to put them back up permanently.

The silence was killing Freddie, her lack of commentary jarring, and twenty minutes in he risked incurring her wrath to ask, "What are we watching?"

"'3 Ninjas,'" she told him without taking her eyes off the screen. She'd calmed down a bit, the walls were back in place, but she was hardly in the mood to chat. "You got a problem?"

"No, it's just that it's kinda…" He stopped himself, not wanting to chiz her off more.

Turning to him she said what she knew he was smart enough not to: "_Cheesy_?"

Freddie gave her a wary grin. "Well, yeah." It was 'Home Alone' with ninjas…

"It's got ninjas," Sam shrugged. She would not defend her movie, and she most definitely would _not_ let that grin affect her.

Her and her ninja infatuation… "So do a lot of movies; this one isn't exactly your usual taste…" How this was any better than 'Galaxy Wars' he didn't know.

Sam turned back to the TV. "It was my fantasy movie growing up, okay?" If he laughed she _was_ going to hit him, plan be damned.

Freddie's eyebrow rose. "Your what?"

"Fantasy, Nub, i.e. the life you wished you had." She couldn't be the only one who wanted to be anyone but herself growing up… Nodding toward the TV she said, "I wanted to be them."

It was funny how her wanting to be male ninjas wasn't at all strange to him. "Makes sense. I mean, it's like the writers met you then split your personality into three different people." His tone was teasing but it was true. There were three young (ninja) brothers, one strong, one free-spirited, and one obsessed with all things food.

Leaning back Sam laughed, "I know, right?" She didn't know if she loved the movie so much because they were like her or she'd modeled herself after them because of how much she loved the movie. It was a chicken/egg thing.

Freddie inhaled the waft of strawberries and vanilla her movement produced, smiling at her profile. "Not that I don't love your 'Seattle Street Fighter' style, but how come you never took any martial arts?" He was always hearing about random activities but never anything that seemed like her.

"I couldn't find a teacher my mom was attracted to enough to pay for the classes," she shrugged, still watching the movie.

"Seriously?" That seemed…misguided.

If only it were a joke. "You think I wanted to take tap? Or piano? Or trombone?" She could go on but she figured he got the idea. "I just dealt with it until a) she lost interest, b) I got kicked out, or c) they filed a restraining order."

Freddie blinked at her; he'd known her mom was a flake but that was just ridiculous. Glad she wasn't looking at him he muttered, "The Brady Bunch."

It took Sam a minute to pick up his train of thought, and she turned to look at him incredulously, echoing, "Seriously?" And he called _her_ movie cheesy?

_Yup._" My mom didn't let me watch many movies and I only got to watch TV shows from 'before America went corrupt.'" He air-quoted it so she'd know they weren't his words.

The air-quotes weren't needed – it was definitely of the Crazy persuasion. Turning sideways Sam rested her cheek against the back of the couch to face him. "Okay, why?" He probably hadn't had many other options but she was curious nonetheless.

"It was always just me and my mom; I wanted a big family like they had." So she didn't think he was a _complete_ sap he joked, "And I figured if I had siblings my mom's crazy wouldn't be so focused on me…"

Sam could definitely relate to his desire for a different family. Pursing her lips she admitted, "Look, Benson, I know I give you a lot of grief about your mom but you're lucky, you know? She wouldn't be so neurotic if she didn't care…"

It was hard not to hear the unspoken '_at __least_ she cares.' In all the years Freddie had known Sam, and in all the times she'd mentioned her mother, her references had always been offhand and detached. Only this last week had she allowed the impression that it bothered her; only today had it started to bother him, too. "We could share her," he suggested lightly. "She'd be too busy worrying about you to smother me…"

The true meaning behind the seemingly self-serving proposal nearly did Sam in, and she tapped his cheek condescendingly while struggling to keep the walls up. "That's a very sweet offer, Fredderlily, but I don't think your mom could handle me..."

Freddie gently took hold of her wrist so she couldn't retreat and watched as the lights from the TV bounced off the unshed tears in her eyes. Holding her gaze he leaned down to kiss her softly, whispering, "You're not nearly as irredeemable as you seem to think you are, Puckett."

Blinking away (non-existent) tears Sam studied the sincerity on his face, breath caught in her throat. The boy was killing her slowly and he didn't even know it…


	11. Chapter 10b

Alright, you guys wanted me to update sooner so I am. If it's not as polished as usual it's totally your fault... I kid :P

This chapter is definitely not tame so younguns beware - I will recap the important part at the beginning of the next chapter so don't worry that you'll miss something if 'racy' is not your taste.

* * *

><p><em>Last time:<em>

Freddie gently took hold of her wrist so she couldn't retreat and watched as the lights from the TV bounced off the unshed tears in her eyes. Holding her gaze he leaned down to kiss her softly, whispering, "You're not nearly as irredeemable as you seem to think you are, Puckett."

Blinking away (non-existent) tears Sam studied the sincerity on his face, breath caught in her throat. The boy was killing her slowly and he didn't even know it…

* * *

><p>Sam rose to her knees so that she was hovering above him, then, without breaking eye contact, placed the hand he wasn't holding captive on his neck and leaned down to kiss him forcefully.<p>

The small part of Freddie's brain that was still functioning recognized a pattern: whenever things got intense emotionally she turned it physical; he knew he should just be grateful her attacks were now with fingers and lips instead of words and fists but he was more interested in the reasons behind it. He'd really have to come back to that later, though, because right now her nails were trailing across his skin and her tongue was running along his lips and he was fast losing the ability to focus on anything else.

For a few worrying seconds he didn't respond and Sam's stomach knotted with insecurity. When he finally let go of her hand to cup her cheek, drew her into him and opened his mouth to her, she allowed herself a small sigh of relief. _This _she could handle.

Freddie started to shift towards her, unhappy with the space still between them, but apparently she could read minds too (was there anything she couldn't do?) because before he was able to process the movement she'd thrown her right leg over both of his and was straddling him, still exploring his mouth. He _definitely_ preferred her solution…

Abandoning his lips Sam marked her way down his neck to tongue his pulse point, nipping it just a little less gently than he had in the alley.

"_Ay, __Dios __mío__…_" Freddie breathed, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back against the couch to give her better access. Digging under the layers of vest and t-shirt he was rewarded with the warmth of her skin beneath his fingers.

"Better not let your mom hear you say that," she laughed throatily, turning her attention to placing kisses along his throat. What attention she could muster, anyway; his hands kneading her flesh were proving to be a bit of a distraction.

"_Yeah_," Freddie scoffed, "'Cause if she were here that's _exactly_ what she'd take issue with…" When Sam stopped what she was doing he gave her a confused pout.

She fought a smirk, knowing by the lust in his eyes that she had him right where she wanted him. "You're right," she mock-sighed as she lifted herself off of him, "We should probably stop…."

Panicked, Freddie tightened his grip on her waist and pulled her back to him roughly. The resulting contact made him cry out.

Sam quickly muffled the sound by taking it into her mouth, suppressing the shiver that arched her spine to murmur "_Ssh_…" against his lips. If the boy couldn't control himself he was going to wake the whole house.

Freddie nodded distractedly. Freeing his hands from her clothes he tangled one in her hair and moved the other to her butt. You couldn't fit a sheet of paper between them but that didn't stop him from trying to bring her closer still, the pressure both frustrating and exhilarating.

"Your mom's at work, right?" Sam gasped. She was having control issues of her own – obviously she'd underestimated the effect this would have on her.

_Huh_? He was about to tell her that repeatedly bringing his mom up while they were doing _this_ was just a little bit awkward when she started to move against him and all thought fled from his mind. "Huh?"

Ignoring the electricity flowing through her body (she'd be able to enjoy herself once she got him where she could 'have' him), Sam wrapped her arms around his neck and moved her mouth to his ear. "Empty apartment…" she whispered, flicking her tongue over his lobe. "No one to wake up…" She sucked it gently into her mouth. "No reason to be quiet…" she finished huskily.

_"Sam…"_ he half-whined, half-growled, his jeans suddenly so tight it was bordering on painful. Even so, he dug his fingers into her skin and guided her movements against him.

Her name had never sounded so sexy, and for the first time in her life Sam was actually grateful for her mother's tendency to overshare; hours upon hours of listening to her chatter on about her dates in excruciatingly inappropriate detail were finally paying off. Pulling back to meet Freddie's eyes she ran a hand down his arm and, interlacing their fingers, made to stand.

Whimpering in protest Freddie resisted, seeking out her lips once again. He didn't know how much more he could take but that didn't mean he wanted to stop…

Sam couldn't blame him – the thought of breaking contact was distressing to her too. _"__Está __bien,__"_ she soothed, giving him a quick kiss before pulling him up with her.

Freddie followed her on auto-pilot, somehow thinking to close the door as she led him into the hall. His brain briefly registered the movie still playing in the background then disregarded it.

Finding the Benson's apartment locked Sam turned to him expectantly; the boy was obviously off in La-La Land though because he was returning her stare with a blank one. Locking her smoldering eyes onto his she pressed herself up against him and gently patted down the front of his jeans. This was probably the _only_ time she'd ever pass up an opportunity to flaunt her skills at B&E…

By the time Freddie realized what she was searching for her hands were wandering along his thighs and he had no intention whatsoever of helping her. Even if she _was_ groping him in the hallway at going on one o'clock in the morning… Wrapping an arm around her he tangled his other hand in her hair and tilted her head to the side. He took a shuddering breath before bringing his lips down on her exposed skin.

Okay, Sam needed to get them inside _quick_ or she'd lose all self-restraint and take him right then and there. Finding the outline of what she was looking for she slid her hand into his left pocket and retrieved the key, making sure to brush against him as she slowly withdrew her prize.

Gasping into her neck Freddie loosened his grip just enough to let her turn around to unlock the door. If he let go of her now he thought he might die…

The combined sensations of his warm breath on her skin and his hardness pressed up against her made Sam's knees buckle. Luckily he held her up, hand splayed across her abdomen, while she opened the door with a shaky hand. As soon as they were in the living room she spun in his arms and attacked his mouth.

Freddie kicked the door closed behind them and responded with equal fervor, cupping her ass-cheeks and lifting until she got the idea and hopped up to wrap herself around him. Finding his balance he carefully picked his way to his bedroom; he couldn't see where he was going through the blonde waves that surrounded his face but her tongue was doing wonderful things in his mouth and he refused to break the kiss.

Sam ran her hands through his hair, wondering when the boy had gotten so freakishly strong. Not that she was complaining, mind you; as much as she loved being in charge him taking control was a complete turn-on. Mostly because she liked to think it was her years of torment that had toughened him up…

Standing at the foot of his bed Freddie tried to figure out the logistics of getting them onto it without separating. Or crushing her. Finally he turned around and backed up until his legs hit the mattress, then sat with her in his lap.

When the action caused their noses to bump Sam took the opportunity to break away enough to reposition herself so that she was kneeling. Going to kiss him again her brow furrowed when he pulled away. "What's wrong?"

Freddie brushed her hair behind her ear. "I want to look at you for a minute," he whispered, trying to calm his wildly-beating heart. She was stunning in the soft glow of the night lights – lips slightly parted and eyes hooded with desire – and he wanted to commit the image to memory in case he never saw it again.

"'Cause _that__'__s_ not creepy," Sam teased, ignoring the flip-flop her stomach made. He was looking at her with such adoration that it would be so easy for her to pretend…

"You're just so…" He wanted to say beautiful but was afraid of how she'd take it. "…_hot_. Your cheeks are flushed…" Running the pad of his thumb over her cheekbone he sighed, "…and your lips are all swollen." He swiped his thumb slowly across her bottom lip.

Sam darted her tongue out to meet it; watched his eyes widen in surprise then flutter closed. Holding his hand to her she sealed her lips over his thumb and twirled her tongue around it suggestively, the heat mounting between her legs when his eyes rolled back under their lids. The only thing better than what this was doing to her was the effect it was having on him.

Freddie's eyes shot open and he pushed up against her, growling deep in the back of his throat. She'd never done that in his fantasies before – granted at this point in the fantasy she was usually mocking him for thinking she was attracted to him or beating him up for daring to touch her… Even so, he wasn't sure his imagination could have come anywhere close to the reality: she was barely touching him, just sucking lightly on his thumb, but he thought he might explode from the implication.

His primal noises, rough movements, and wanton look did Sam in. Releasing his hand she unbuttoned her vest, shrugged it off and dropped it to the floor behind her. Then she grabbed the hem of his polo and tugged upwards until he reluctantly took his hand back to raise his arms. His shirts quickly joined her sweater on the floor. "Move up," she ordered huskily, lifting her weight so he could move but keeping her hands on his bare chest. She licked her lips in anticipation as she traced her fingers over his skin.

Doing as he was told Freddie held her to him so they wouldn't completely lose contact. When they were settled nearer the head of the bed he pulled her into a needy kiss, replacing the tongue on her lips with his own.

Sam broke the kiss to push him back onto his elbows. Faking a confident smile she leaned down to nudge his face to the side with her nose and, starting at his neck, leisurely kissed and licked her way down his torso. There wasn't much that scared Sam Puckett – much she'd _admit_ _to_ anyway – but with her plan at the 'make it or break it' stage she was terrified. Terrified that she'd ruin their first time, or he'd refuse to go through with it, or worst of all, that he'd see through her and she'd be humiliated. It was usually so easy to hide her emotions but _here_, now and like _this_, it was taking all of her acting skills to not give herself away.

Freddie held her hair away from her face so he could watch her every move. When she looked up at him, determination flashing in her eyes, he realized that this was it: she was going to go through with it. The thought was both thrilling and horrifying. He knew there was a good possibility that after tonight things between them would go back to the way they were before and he wasn't okay with that. As much as he wanted her (and _God_ did he want her) he wasn't willing to trade whatever they were right now for one night; he was a teenager with crazy hormones but he wasn't _stupid_. "Sam, wait…" Her tongue was circling his belly-button, her hands unbuckling his belt, and he scoured his brain for an excuse to stop. "We don't have any protection…"

Straightening to reach into her pocket Sam pulled out the condom she'd taken from her backpack earlier when getting the movie. She tossed it onto the bed next to him with a self-satisfied smirk. _Mama __came __prepared._

"What if that one's broken?" he stammered, a little panicked. He tried to sit up but she held him down with a hand on his chest.

Sam rolled her eyes and took three more out of her other pocket, displaying them for him before dropping them on the bed with the first. "_And_ I'm on the pill." She wasn't leaving him any excuse to back out.

Freddie blinked up at her incredulously. "_How __long __have __you __been_ _planning __this?_"

His voice had reached a decibel only dogs could hear, and it would have been amusing if Sam didn't feel the mood quickly evaporating. "Relax, Freddie – I've been on the pill for years; my mom took me to the doctor as soon as I hit puberty." Why did he have to be so difficult?

_Seriously? _"She couldn't take you to the dentist but she's got you on birth control you don't need?" Well, _hadn't _needed…

"She didn't want me repeating her mistakes," Sam shrugged. When he gave her a disgusted look she defended, "Hey! It's the one thing she thought to plan ahead on…" And she was actually grateful for it – she didn't want to turn into her mother, either.

He couldn't believe she'd justified her mom calling her a mistake; he knew his mom had had a hard time getting her nursing degree while raising him on her own but she'd never even made him _feel_ like a mistake, much less called him one to his face. That Sam just shrugged it off showed how completely warped her view of family was. Or how deeply she'd buried her resentment…

Taking a steadying breath she climbed back up him and pressed her body to his in a fresh attempt at seduction. She had too much riding on this for him to get all noble now…

"Sam, stop," he whispered into her hair. He didn't want to offend her but if he'd been torn before he was certain now: he needed more time to get to know the _real_ Sam, not the facade she put on for everyone. She wasn't listening though; her nimble fingers had unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans and were making their way into them. Thinking fast he flipped them so that she was on the bed and he was over her, staring into her smoky eyes.

Sam covered her surprise (and disappointment) with a sultry smile. Snaking an arm around his neck she pulled him down to catch his lips in a sensual kiss and grabbed his free hand to bring it to her breast. This was her last-ditch effort – if there was one thing (two things?) boys couldn't resist it was _boobs._

Mind a lust-filled haze it took Freddie a minute to realize she was purposely distracting him. Reversing her hold on his hand he pinned it to the mattress beside her head, then undid her hold on his neck and pinned her other wrist as well.

Hot tears of frustration filled Sam's eyes before she managed to will them away, arguing tightly, "You _agreed_ to this…" Apparently she'd forgotten he wasn't a normal boy.

"You said we could wait, that it didn't have to be soon…" He wanted to let her wrists go but was scared if she touched him again he wouldn't be able to stop.

"Why wait?" Sam wrapped her legs around his waist and guided him against her, purring in his ear, "I know you want me…" The words were a million times more self-assured than she felt.

Freddie did his best to minimize the contact but she had thighs like a vice. "Sam, you need to stop," he gasped.

"I've already told you more than I've told anyone that wasn't court-appointed," she growled, dropping her legs to the bed. "What the hell else do you want?"

Taking the opening she gave him Freddie admitted quietly, "I want you to promise me we won't go back to the way things were. That you won't shut me out anymore…"

"Whatever." She had no intention of following through; as soon as they were done those walls were going back up. With grout, mortar, _and_ crazy glue.

"I need you to say the words, Sam," he begged, resting his forehead against hers. "_Please_…" If she'd just promise him…

Turning her head to the side to break the contact she sighed, "What does it matter?" He was supposed to be begging for _sex_, not intimacy; how did they get so far off track?

Her shirt shifted when she moved, and Freddie's eye caught the flash of a silver chain he'd been too preoccupied to notice earlier. He let go of one of her hands to follow it, breath catching when his fingers came into contact with the pendant, and he pulled it from behind her neck to study it as though for the first time. When he'd seen the pillow charm in the store he'd known it was _destined_ for her, and it had burned a hole in his pocket for two months until her birthday finally came around. He'd told everyone it was for her love of sleep but truthfully it was because it reminded him of 'Wake up Spencer,' the first thing they'd ever done together without Carly. In the month since he'd given it to her he'd never even seen her wear it.

That god-forsaken necklace was the whole reason Sam was in this mess in the first place, and she mentally cursed herself for forgetting to take the damn thing off. For years she'd managed to keep her feelings for Freddie under lock and key but as soon as that stupid chain had come out of its box so had they. It had made her feel closer to him, touched that he cared enough to get something that suited her so well, and try as she might for the last month she couldn't undo the massive damage that little pillow had done. _A __tiny __fucking __pillow._

Freddie placed the pendant on her chest and gently forced her to look him in the eye. Two weeks ago he'd swallowed his pride and asked her if the reason she never wore it was that she didn't like it; she'd shrugged and said it reminded her of him. It had hurt like hell – that something that meant so much to him could mean so little to her – but the fact that she was wearing it now showed him that his weren't the only feelings that had changed. Closing the distance between them he closed his eyes and placed a feather-light kiss on her lips.

This kiss felt different somehow, Sam thought, and when he opened his eyes she immediately knew why: he was giving her a look she'd seen him give before, though it hadn't ever been directed at her. She tried to draw him into another kiss but he pulled out of her reach.

"It _does_ matter, Sam," he told her softly, brushing the back of his hand across her cheek. "I think I love you…"

Sam closed her eyes and took a breath to harden herself before opening them again. Shaking her head she told him decisively, "_No_, you don't."

He'd known better than to expect reciprocation; what he _hadn__'__t_ expected was the apathy that had completely overtaken her features. Good or bad (usually bad), she always had an opinion. "I _do_. Sam…"

"Take it back." The interruption was smooth, _even_, but what she _really_ wanted to do was scream and cry and hurt him the way he was hurting her.

Freddie avoided her cool gaze in favor of watching his fingers tease her blonde curls. If he wanted her to be honest with him then he needed to do the same, even if it was something she didn't want to hear. "I can't," he whispered.

Only through sheer force of will was Sam able to keep the tremor out of her voice. "Why are you doing this to me?" Of all the ways she'd imagined tonight ending this hadn't even crossed her mind.

It was practically a plea, and when Freddie finally dared look at her face it was pained. Was it _that_ bad, him loving her?

"Get off me, Freddie." She was about to lose it, physically _and_ emotionally, and if he didn't let her go now she _was_ going to hurt him.

Her tone was deadly serious, scary in its own right, but he couldn't just let her leave. "_No_. Sam…"

His blatant defiance broke her composure. "_GET __OFF __ME!_"

He was so shocked by the intense hatred that he recoiled, and before he could recover she'd scissored him around the waist and _thrown_ him off. Eyes wide he hit the edge of the bed then rolled off it onto the floor.

The dull 'thud' he made hitting the ground started the tears flowing; not bothering to wipe them away Sam jumped off the bed and ran out the door as fast as her unsteady legs could take her.

Ego bruised and mind boggled, Freddie laid there staring at the ceiling guiltily for what felt like hours. So much for not opening the can of worms…


	12. Chapter 11

**Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to everyone! I wish you all the very best over the holidays and in the new year :)**

**I want to thank everyone for the reviews and continuing to read - it makes me very happy. I normally try to respond to reviews but I figure you guys would rather I update sooner than later...**

**As promised here's a quick recap of the last chapter:**

**Sam sets her plan in motion, almost getting Freddie to do the deed, but he realizes that if he goes through with it their relationship will go back to the way it was and he doesn't want that. He tries to get her to promise she won't shut him out again but she's having none of it. The following is how the chapter ends...**

Her shirt shifted when she moved, and Freddie's eye caught the flash of a silver chain he'd been too preoccupied to notice earlier. He let go of one of her hands to follow it, breath catching when his fingers came into contact with the pendant, and he pulled it from behind her neck to study it as though for the first time. When he'd seen the pillow charm in the store he'd known it was _destined_ for her, and it had burned a hole in his pocket for two months until her birthday finally came around. He'd told everyone it was for her love of sleep but truthfully it was because it reminded him of 'Wake up Spencer,' the first thing they'd ever done together without Carly. In the month since he'd given it to her he'd never even seen her wear it.

That god-forsaken necklace was the whole reason Sam was in this mess in the first place, and she mentally cursed herself for forgetting to take the damn thing off. For years she'd managed to keep her feelings for Freddie under lock and key but as soon as that stupid chain had come out of its box so had they. It had made her feel closer to him, touched that he cared enough to get something that suited her so well, and try as she might for the last month she couldn't undo the massive damage that little pillow had done. _A tiny fucking pillow._

Freddie placed the pendant on her chest and gently forced her to look him in the eye. Two weeks ago he'd swallowed his pride and asked her if the reason she never wore it was that she didn't like it; she'd shrugged and said it reminded her of him. It had hurt like hell – that something that meant so much to him could mean so little to her – but the fact that she was wearing it now showed him that his weren't the only feelings that had changed. Closing the distance between them he closed his eyes and placed a feather-light kiss on her lips.

This kiss felt different somehow, Sam thought, and when he opened his eyes she immediately knew why: he was giving her a look she'd seen him give before, though it hadn't ever been directed at her. She tried to draw him into another kiss but he pulled out of her reach.

"It _does_ matter, Sam," he told her softly, brushing the back of his hand across her cheek. "I think I love you…"

Sam closed her eyes and took a breath to harden herself before opening them again. Shaking her head she told him decisively, "_No_, you don't."

He'd known better than to expect reciprocation; what he _hadn't_ expected was the apathy that had completely overtaken her features. Good or bad (usually bad), she always had an opinion. "I _do_. Sam…"

"Take it back." The interruption was smooth, _even_, but what she _really_ wanted to do was scream and cry and hurt him the way he was hurting her.

Freddie avoided her cool gaze in favour of watching his fingers tease her blonde curls. If he wanted her to be honest with him then he needed to do the same, even if it was something she didn't want to hear. "I can't," he whispered.

Only through sheer force of will was Sam able to keep the tremor out of her voice. "Why are you doing this to me?" Of all the ways she'd imagined tonight ending this hadn't even crossed her mind.

It was practically a plea, and when Freddie finally dared look at her face it was pained. Was it _that_ bad, him loving her?

"Get off me, Freddie." She was about to lose it, physically _and_ emotionally, and if he didn't let her go now she _was_ going to hurt him.

Her tone was deadly serious, scary in its own right, but he couldn't just let her leave. "_No_. Sam…"

His blatant defiance broke her composure. "_GET OFF ME!_"

He was so shocked by the intense hatred that he recoiled, and before he could recover she'd scissored him around the waist and _thrown_ him off. Eyes wide he hit the edge of the bed then rolled off it onto the floor.

The dull 'thud' he made hitting the ground started the tears flowing; not bothering to wipe them away Sam jumped off the bed and ran out the door as fast as her unsteady legs could take her.

Ego bruised and mind boggled, Freddie laid there staring at the ceiling guiltily for what felt like hours. So much for not opening the can of worms…

* * *

><p><strong>And on with the story...<strong>

Freddie was woken up early Sunday morning by the sounds of his mom getting home from work, and though he'd barely slept he got up to have breakfast with her anyway. When she asked what he'd done the night before he shrugged and said 'the usual' – even though there had been nothing _usual_ about it at all – and asked her how _her_ night had been, making absentminded small talk until she went to bed. Going back to his room he showered and dressed for the day, then took Sam's vest from his chair and fell onto his mattress with a groan.

After she'd run off he'd cleaned up the mess they'd left at the Shay's then called to make sure she'd gotten home safe. She hadn't answered or responded to his texts, and while logically he knew she was just ignoring him he hated not knowing for sure that she was okay. Her driving worried him at the best of times (she _was_ her mother's daughter, after all), and her driving while upset absolutely terrified him. It may have been the influence of _his _mother's paranoia but he couldn't help but picture her crashed on the side of the road somewhere…

Toying with the pleather material (it didn't feel nearly as nice under his fingers as when she'd been wearing it) Freddie replayed the night's events in his mind for the millionth time. To say he was confused would be an understatement. He could accept that she didn't feel the same, _expected_ it even, but in the six years they'd known each other she'd never _once_ looked at him like that. Annoyed, exasperated, resentful, sure (they were pretty much constant), but never with outright _hate_. Not even at the beginning. That it had happened after everything they'd shared this week made even less sense. He could understand her being angry that he'd complicated things (she _loathed_ complicated) but to hate him for it? Not for the first time Freddie wished there was a 'Sam Puckett' instruction manual, complete with diagrams and flow charts, accompanied by a handy little mood detector.

With a last sigh he hung the vest up in his closet then headed over to the Shay's and knocked on their door. He entered when he heard Carly call out to 'Come in.'

"Hey, Freddie," Carly greeted from her place at the stove. "Want some breakfast?"

Peering surreptitiously around the apartment he responded, "No, thanks; I ate with my mom." It was a toss-up whose food was worse, really – yucky, healthy taste versus hardly any taste at all.

Carly nodded. "Make yourself at home; I'm almost done."

Freddie sat at the counter to watch her cook, inquiring in a casual tone, "Hey, have you heard from Sam today?" Odds were she was still sleeping but for the sake of his sanity he had to ask.

"Yeah. We were supposed to go shopping but she cancelled to do research." She spooned the food onto her plate. "Why?"

"She left pretty late; I just wanted to make sure she got home okay." He was so busy being relieved that it took a few seconds for her words to truly register. "Wait… did you just say Sam cancelled shopping for _homework_?" Oh, God – he'd broken her.

Sitting at the table Carly giggled, "Yeah, _right_." Like _that _would ever happen. "She's trying to dig up some dirt on Trevor…" Carly was already over (okay, _mostly_ over) the whole thing but Sam wasn't so quick to forgive and forget.

_Good_. Well, good that he hadn't broken her. Definitely not good for Trevor… "You didn't tell her not to?"

"Are you kidding me?" Carly scoffed up at him as he moved to join her at the table. "You know how Sam is about being told _not_ to do something: she'll specifically do it just to prove she _can_." _Swing set, anyone?_

_True. _"But she usually listens to you…"

_Usually. _She took a bite of her eggs before pointing out, "She didn't listen to me about Jake Krandall…" The day Jake had dumped her Sam had mysteriously disappeared at lunch and, later that afternoon, the audio from Jake's sound check (in all its off-key glory) had been transmitted over the school PA system. Carly had disapproved of the tactic but had to admit it made her feel better, particularly when Stephanie dropped him like a discordant hot-cake.

The only reason Freddie had known Sam was planning anything was because she'd needed him to be ready with his PearPhone during last period. He couldn't say he hadn't been impressed with her cunning – he always _was_ – but her revenge had come with a price. "She got two weeks detention for inappropriate use of the PA system…" Of course she'd deemed it 'totally worth it' upon seeing the video of Jake's reaction, but still.

"What did you want me to do? Go unhook her internet?" That was more his skill set than hers.

"I'd think you'd at least _try_ to talk her out of it…" Freddie couldn't help it if his tone was a little accusatory – it seemed like the only time Carly approved of Sam's vengeful or violent tendencies was when they were on her behalf.

Shaking her head Carly defended, "Well, I _would have_ but she nearly took my head off just for calling. She's in quite the mood." She pointed her fork at him menacingly. "And I don't appreciate the implication."

Freddie felt bad for thinking Carly didn't have Sam's best interests at heart, especially since Sam's 'mood' was most likely his fault. "Sorry; I just don't want her to get in trouble again. The year's almost over and I was hoping we'd get through it without a suspension." _For the first time ever._

"S'okay," Carly allowed, swallowing a mouthful of food, "I'm worried about her, too. Her voice was all weird…" When she was done eating she pushed her empty plate away and looked at him expectantly.

"_What_?" Like he didn't know _why_ she was staring at him…

Carly groaned at his bad innocent act. "Are you gonna tell me what happened to _put_ her in a bad mood or what?"

"Uh…" Freddie went for the obvious, if tentative, answer: "Trevor?"

"No, _not_ Trevor." Leaning across the table at him she ordered, "_Spill_, Freddie." It was way too early to have to chase him around the apartment…

"How do you know it's not Trevor?" he deflected. "Sam does tend to go all mama-bear when someone hurts you…" It was actually the most predictable thing about her.

Because if it were Trevor she wouldn't be taking it out _on_ Carly. Also: "When I asked Spencer if he knew _why _she was upset he covered his ears and ran into his room screaming about Parcheesi…" She saw Freddie flinch and drove it home. "Now why would he do that if she was upset about Trevor?"

The chances of her buying it were close to nil but he had to try… "Sam disapproves of Trevor's Parcheesi addiction?"

_Argh! _"Freddie!"

Damn Spencer and his inability to lie. Unfortunately Freddie wasn't any better at it… "I'm gonna go ask him!" Before Carly could stop him he was up and out of the kitchen, heading down the hall. "Spencer, _let me in_!"

Spencer opened his bedroom door and yanked Freddie in by the front of his shirt before slamming it shut. "You told her!" he hissed accusingly.

Freddie sat on the bed and put his head in his hands to mumble, "Worse!"

"What could be _worse_ than telling her you like her?" Opening his door a crack Spencer checked to make sure Carly wasn't in the hallway eavesdropping. She wasn't – he could hear her talking to someone in the kitchen.

When Freddie had the older man's attention again he breathed, "I told her I love her." Falling back on the bed he covered his eyes with his arms. _Ugh._

Spencer blinked at him, dumbfounded. "That is _so_ much worse." Like, 'the results of his electrical wiring' _worse_.

Freddie moved his arm to raise a sarcastic eyebrow. "Ya think?" Maybe if he'd just told her he liked her she wouldn't have reacted so strongly…

How the boy went from 'maybe like' to 'love' in one night Spencer didn't know. Dropping to the bed he patted Freddie's leg supportively. "So what happened?"

"She told me to take it back and when I wouldn't she took off. I haven't been able to reach her since." The other details weren't important. Well, they _were_ but they weren't exactly shareable.

"At least she didn't break anything," Spencer comforted with an overly-bright smile. Poor Sam – she must have been _really_ floored if she hadn't violenced him.

Freddie couldn't even be happy for that silver lining, instead groaning, "I almost wish she _had_." Sitting up he looked at Spencer miserably. "You didn't see the _hate_ on her face, Spence. The last time she had that look it was directed at Nevel…"

_Ouch_. Spencer felt for the boy so he wouldn't say 'I told you so.' He settled for "I'm sorry, buddy."

"It's not your fault," Freddie allowed, "You tried to warn me." He'd never been one to hide how he felt, though he probably should have learned with Carly that it didn't get him anywhere.

Shaking his head Spencer corrected, "I should have just said '_hell_ no;' I think the hockey sticks confused you…"

Despite the situation Freddie had to laugh. "A lot of things confuse me lately, especially a particular blonde-headed demon." Turning to Spencer he voiced his fears. "What if I ruined everything?" Everything Spencer knew about and everything he _didn't_.

"Give her some time, Freddo. I'm sure she'll get over it." Knowing Sam she'd just pretend it never happened. It might not be what the boy wanted but it was probably the best he could hope for.

Freddie ran a hand through his hair and sighed, "I hope you're right."

"I was right last time," Spencer pointed out.

"Not helpful."

"Sorry."

The room was silent for a few minutes until Freddie spoke again. "So how long are we going to hide out in here?"

Spencer shrugged. "Just 'til Carly leaves for college…"

* * *

><p>Freddie's mom had the night shift all week so he and Carly were stuck taking the bus on Monday morning. He tapped impatiently on the window frame, anxious to get to school where Sam wouldn't be able to avoid him without Carly noticing. The brunette had been so suspicious of both boys hiding out in Spencer's room that she'd risked facing Sam's wrath to go straight to the source. He didn't know what Sam had told her (hadn't dared ask) but it must have satisfied her; she'd knocked on the door to invite him shopping with her (probably Sam's idea of payback) not twenty minutes later. At the very least Sam <em>had<em> to talk to him so they could get their story straight in case Carly decided to follow up. That was his hope anyway – she still wasn't taking his calls. He'd even borrowed Carly's cell while she was trying on outfits knowing the blonde would answer if she didn't think it was him. All he'd managed to say was 'Sam, please don't' before she'd hung up. He'd suggested going to visit her on the way home but all of a sudden she wasn't taking _Carly's_ calls either (he feigned ignorance at the brunette's confusion) and they knew better than to show up uninvited. So here he was, staring out the window and urging the big hunk of metal to go faster.

Carly's phone beeped and she pulled it out of her jacket to find a new email from Sam. Having forgotten about the Trevor thing she was surprised to see a picture of him with the caption 'Have you been with this man?' and a link beneath it in the style of old 'Wanted' posters. "Oh, she _didn't_," Carly groaned, handing the phone to Freddie. "I'm afraid to look."

He was feeling a little insecure about not getting the email himself until he saw that Sam had only sent it to the girls in school (he didn't even want to _think_ about what she'd hacked to get all their addresses). Clicking the link he looked at the screen through his fingers. It was an article dated the month before in the Snoqualmie Valley Record about a small syphilis outbreak at the local high school; five girls had come down with the STD and upon further investigation they'd all been with the same guy. The newspaper couldn't name the underage girls but Trevor wasn't so lucky. The article went on to give the symptoms of the infection and numbers to contact and blah blah blah. Giving the phone back to Carly he confirmed "Oh, yes she _did_."

Skimming the webpage Carly shook her head sadly. "Do you think she made it up? Seems kinda convenient…"

"Looks legit to me." At one time he'd have said Sam was too lazy to do something so elaborate; he'd since learned that with the proper motivation (such as her best friend being humiliated) she was capable of just about anything. When it came to defending Carly Sam went for the jugular, and she'd once told him (probably about the Jake Krandall thing, actually) that nothing inflicted pain more than the truth; that what made it so devastating was that there was no denying it. And while he didn't know for sure that she _hadn't_ made it up Freddie knew she _had_ acted without thinking (big surprise there) – Trevor Harland had at least a foot and fifty pounds on her, and, judging by the article, not a lot of respect for women. He was trying to figure out a way to not leave her alone all day (made even more impossible by her avoiding him) when they finally reached their destination.

Carly practically ran into the school. She knew Sam was already inside: there was no way she'd miss the fireworks she herself had set off. Also, Sam's mom's beat up Gremlin was in the parking lot. She found the blonde standing at their lockers watching the chaos around her with a smug smile. "What were you _thinking_?"

"Well good morning to you too, Sunshine," Sam deadpanned. The halls were alive with chatter (it wasn't arguing but it would have to do) and she wasn't going to let Carly (or the nub that had just joined them) ruin it for her (like he ruined everything else).

"Sam, this is serious!" Carly could feel the ulcers forming. Why couldn't she have picked a non-worry-inducing best friend?

"It's okay," Sam dismissed, petting Carly's arm to calm her down. "It's the jag-off's fault anyway for putting himself on Mama's radar. Otherwise I wouldn't have _cared_ why he switched schools with two months left in the year…"

Freddie listened to the exchange quietly, knowing Carly was just wasting her breath; it was already done and it wasn't like Sam would take it back even if she could. Instead he studied her face, noticing that although her eyes were shining and her cheeks were flushed with excitement (his mind unhelpfully supplied a similar image from Saturday night) she looked exhausted. The flicker of longing was replaced by a pang of guilt.

"Besides, I did the public a service," Sam justified with a wave of the hand. "This way no other gullible chick is gonna fall for the guy's questionable charms and get more than she bargained for." After a beat she supplied, "No offense."

Carly growled in frustration. It was like talking to a frickin' _wall_. "Somehow I doubt Trevor's gonna see it that way, Sam! And what about _Principal Franklin_? You're gonna get suspended. Or expelled! Or _worse_!"

Sam didn't know what Carly thought was worse than getting expelled but she was more concerned that the brunette was on the verge of hyperventilating. "Relax, Carls," she soothed, taking the brunette's face in her hands and forcing eye contact. "_Breathe_…" When Carly's breathing returned to normal she explained, "I can't get in trouble for emailing a link outside of school hours. What I did may be a little mean but it's not punishable."

"_Samantha Puckett please report to the Principal's office. Sam Puckett to the Principal's office."_

"Apparently Principal Franklin disagrees," Carly pointed out smugly.

Freddie broke his silence to marvel, "How'd he find out so fast?"

Ignoring them both Sam pouted at the speaker, whining, "_Now_? But I want to see Trevor's face…"

"I think you're going to get your wish," Carly sighed, turning the blonde so she could see Trevor coming. If he hadn't been in the direction of the offices she wouldn't have pointed him out at all; at least this way her best friend would be prepared.

"You _bitch_!" Trevor hissed, stomping down the hall towards them.

Sam tried to look innocent but her smile just grew wider – she'd been waiting for this all morning. "Are you talking to me?" She took an exaggerated look around.

Not liking the rage on Trevor's face Freddie stepped in front of her. It would probably only slow the guy down for a second (if at all) but he needed to do _something_.

"You know, you've got a big mouth for someone who needs her tech monkey to protect her…"

Pushing Freddie out of the way Sam walked up to Trevor and narrowed her eyes. "Watch it, _Syph-stick_. I'm more than capable of kicking your ass back to Snoqualmie all on my own…"

"What'd you say, bitch?"

"You heard me," she bit off, getting in his face. Well, his _chest_. She forged ahead anyway with a smirked, "Unless you didn't – I hear syphilis causes deafness…" Yeah, she was pushing him. Humiliating him was fun and all but what Sam _really_ needed right then was some good old-fashioned vi-O-lence.

Freddie rolled his eyes; she just didn't know when to stop. "_Sam_…"

There was a collective gasp when Trevor grabbed the front of Sam's shirt and slammed her into the locker.

Sam covered her wince with a vicious grin. Dude was stronger than she'd expected but it wouldn't stop her from destroying him if he threw the first punch…

Carly quickly took hold of Freddie's jacket when he went to intervene, shaking her head at him. Sam could take care of herself; him not so much…

"So here's what you're gonna do, Trevor…" You couldn't tell by Sam's voice that he was holding her up against a locker. Sure her chest hurt where his hand was pressed into it but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of reacting. "First you're gonna let me go, then you're gonna apologize to Carly for being a douche." Rolling her eyes she added, "And then you're going to apologize to Charlene, 'cause I'm thinking you gave her more than just a burger Saturday night." There – that was her good deed for the year.

"And why the hell would I do that?" Trevor spat in her face.

Carly wanted to go get a teacher to break it up – he was leaning into Sam like he was either about to kiss her or swallow her whole – but she couldn't tear her eyes away. Sam had a plan, she was sure of it. She just wished her best friend would get to it already 'cause it was painful to watch.

Freddie's hands balled into fists. He didn't understand why she was letting Trevor man-handle her – he'd seen her get out of situations worse than this at least a half-dozen times: all she had to do was distract him and get loose. Well, he was sure it was more complicated than that but she always made it look that easy. The only reason he could come up with was that she _wanted_ Trevor to hit her. And by the looks of it he was going to…

"The web is a wonderful thing, Trev. Do you mind if I call you Trev?" Sam's breathy tone was as much a product of her being winded as a tool of intimidation. Unfortunately. "Anyway, your quality time with penicillin wasn't the only thing I found out about…" His eyes widened and she finished him off in a whisper only he could hear. "_Something about football tryouts, a mop, and baby powder? Am I remembering that right_?" The ball was firmly in his court – he could either back down and save himself the embarrassment (and the beating) or take it that step further. She _really _hoped he chose the latter.

The crowd watched in awe as Trevor's gaze dropped to the ground and he let Sam go, backing away.

Within seconds she'd snatched his wrist, spun herself behind him and thrown him into the locker with his arm twisted up behind his back. The sound of his face meeting metal made her smile.

The hallway was filled with cheering and exuberant shouts.

"Don't _EVER_ touch me again… Got it?" Sam hissed, standing on her tip-toes to reach his ear. When he just nodded she forced his hand higher, using all her self-control not to push past that final resistance and dislocate his shoulder. The thought that she might need anger management crossed her mind but she quickly dismissed it.

"Got it! I got it!"

Sam let Trevor go and nonchalantly picked up her backpack. _Damn_ but that felt good. Not as good as it could have, but still. She just hoped Ted didn't kill her high; she'd emailed him at home the night before to tell him her plan because she'd thought if he knew in advance he wouldn't be (as) disappointed in her. To his credit he hadn't tried to talk her out of it (he'd known it wouldn't have done any good), just replied that they'd discuss it that day. Needless to say she wasn't really looking forward to _that_ conversation…

The warning bell rang, and, fight over, the throng began to noisily disperse.

Freddie let out a gigantic sigh. She'd had a plan. She'd been in control all along. But telling himself he'd been right to not get involved didn't stop him from feeling like a total wuss… He was about to check on her when Miss Briggs appeared and began ushering the remaining students away. If she noticed the blood trailing from Trevor's nose (how could she _not_?) she didn't mention it.

"Sam, Principal Franklin is waiting for you." Francine turned to Trevor and pinched his t-shirt between her thumb and forefinger and began dragging him away. "As for you, Casanova, _get to class_."

Trevor didn't meet Carly's eyes as they passed but he did mutter "_Sorry_." Carly really wanted to know what Sam had said to him. On second thought she probably didn't… Turning to share a relieved glance with Freddie she deadpanned, "Well, that was fun."

"Yeah." When Freddie looked around for Sam she was already gone. "You think she's okay?"

Carly shrugged. "Of course she's okay: she's Sam." That was probably the best morning she'd had all month, despite the fact she'd practically given her friends a heart-attack.

Sam being Sam was exactly the reason Freddie wasn't so sure, and he thought if Carly knew what was really going on she'd probably agree. Unless he was just being overly sensitive and it didn't have anything to do with him at all… For some reason that thought was even more depressing.

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, I know there was no <em>real<em> Seddie in this chapter so as a little Christmas/Holiday gift I'll give you a tiny preview from the next chapter:**

"You _do not_ have feelings for me…" Sam growled, losing control and spinning on him with hate in her eyes. "I know they say you are what you eat but I will _not_ be bacon, do you understand me?"

_Bacon_? "Why would you think you're bacon?" She couldn't possibly think he only loved her because she was going to sleep with him…

She barked a humorless laugh. "It's been a week, Freddie. All it took was _one week_ for you to go from zero to in love with me? The only thing that's changed is the agreement."

Shaking his head Freddie argued, "No! _We _changed because of the agreement." He waved a hand between them, trying to get her to understand. "Sam, this week has been incredible. And not just because of the physical." If he said the physical had nothing to do with it he'd be lying and she'd know it. "You let me in; I've seen a side of you this week you've never let me see before…"

"You're gonna be seeing my fist in your face soon if you don't drop it." It had taken Sam all of Sunday to calm down enough just to be in his presence; it seemed he was determined to shatter what little hold she had left…

**Cyber cookies to SeddierFTW - no, Sam doesn't believe him ;)**


	13. Chapter 11b

**Happy 2012 everyone!**

**Okay, here's where we're at: because LyshaLuvsSeddie asked oh-so-nicely I've done something I don't usually do (besides write a chapter purely on a review - *you* better feel extra special, Lysha) which is switch POV in the middle of a story. This chapter only will be from Sam's POV and it's really an aside so feel free to disregard it as part of the story if you don't like it.**

**Warning: _Muchos angst ahead._**

* * *

><p>Sam knocked on the open door of Franklin's office then stood there, almost sheepishly, while she waited for him to turn his attention from the notes he was making.<p>

"Come in and close the door," Ted ordered without looking up. Once she was seated in front of his desk he put his pen down with a disillusioned sigh and met her wary eyes. "I think you know that I'm not pleased with your behavior…"

If she _hadn't_ known the disapproval he was radiating would certainly have clued her in. "He hurt Carly," she shrugged unapologetically, sitting tall despite his piercing stare.

"That doesn't give you the right to hurt him back, Sam." He felt like a broken record the number of times he'd repeated that same line to her; obviously she disagreed because she just kept doing the things that made him have to give it.

Sam grinned cheekily. "Gotta protect those that can't protect themselves, Sir." She thought she remembered that being in the bible somewhere…

Ted knew he wouldn't win that particular argument; she was the self-appointed guardian of her little clique. "Would you agree that what you did to him is disproportionate to what he did to Carly?" At least Chad Christopher's and Jake Krandall's 'punishments' had been for the most part _fair_.

She wasn't interested in what was 'proportionate;' she only cared about teaching the boy a lesson. The immense satisfaction she got from it was just a bonus. "I think he shouldn't have been a jerk in the first place…"

Resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose (she could single-handedly keep Tylenol in business with the headaches she induced) Ted shared, "His parents are very upset, Sam; they're threatening to take legal action." They didn't really have a leg to stand on but at best it could be a public relations nightmare.

Sam rolled her eyes – of course the boy had whined to mommy and daddy. "Maybe they should be more concerned with their son _being_ a slutty womanizer than people _knowing_ he's a slutty womanizer," she suggested dryly.

Ted ignored her terminology (and his mounting frustration). "Be that as it _may_, you have to realize the position it puts myself and this school in…"

Quirking a pert eyebrow she volleyed, "Imagine the position you'd be in if he'd managed to spread his 'good will' throughout Ridgeway's female population…" She'd been nemesis to the school board long enough to know it cared more about appearance than anything.

She wasn't wrong (distasteful analogy aside) but that was hardly the message he was trying to impart. "_Sam_…"

_Ugh. _Their threats wouldn't amount to anything – if the Harlands were so worried about Trevor's reputation they definitely wouldn't want it all over the news – but if it _did_ come to that she'd just remind the boy of the leverage she'd kept… Still, she felt a little guilty. "Look – I'm sorry you're disappointed in me and I'm sorry you have to deal with the fallout." Defiantly meeting his eyes she added, "But I'm not sorry I did it."

He hadn't _expected_ her to be sorry about doing it – appreciated that she hadn't insulted him with an insincere apology, even – but as her Principal (and primary adult influence) he had an obligation to discuss it with her. "Are you sorry about the fight?"

Sam shrunk a little in her seat – if there was one thing he _really _frowned upon it was her fighting. Which sucked 'cause right now it was the only thing that could make _her_ smile… "He started it," she justified, suddenly feeling like she had when she'd pushed Tommy O'Hare into the ditch for tugging her pigtails.

"Not without provocation…" Ted countered easily. He had no doubt it was _exactly_ the response she'd been going for.

"So suspend me…" It seemed rude but she actually wished he _would_; a week off would make avoiding the nub a hell of a lot easier.

Ted pursed his lips. He'd come to consider Sam like a niece – cared for her almost as though she was his own despite having very little say in her upbringing – but sometimes she needed a therapist more than she needed parental guidance or an authority figure. Steepling his hands on the desk he leaned towards her. "I'd much rather you told me why you felt the _need_ to fight."

Sam subconsciously leaned back. It was almost imperceptible, the change in his tone, but she knew he'd just switched from 'Principal' mode to 'Shrink' mode. _Joy._ "I was defending myself."

She might have been able to fool anyone else but Ted knew her too well; spent many an hour (many _many_ an hour) in his office listening to her, discovering all her tricks of evasion. He knew her tactics and triggers as well as he knew her permanent record. "You haven't gotten into a fight in almost a year. The last time you did was when…"

"This isn't the same," she quickly cut him off with a shake of her head. "This has nothing to do with that."

Ted raised an eyebrow at her insolence but let it go because he knew the memory was still painful. "My _point_, Samantha, is that you use physical altercations as an outlet when you're unable to handle something emotionally."

She hated when he used her full name; hated it even more when he psychoanalyzed her. Especially when he was right.

When she didn't respond, just avoided his gaze in favor of playing with the strap of her backpack, Ted knew he was in for a lengthy game of cat and mouse. "Is everything okay at home?" 'Okay' was a relative term but things seemed to be going better now that Sam had learned to think of Pam as simply a roommate rather than a mother.

"Everything's fine." Her mother would actually have to _be_ home for there to be a problem.

_One down._ "Alright – did something happen with your father?"

Besides the fact that she was seriously considering moving to L.A.? "No."

_Two down._ "Are you and Carly arguing?" The situation with Trevor was to 'protect' the brunette but Ted had to ask anyway: the blonde had a love-hate relationship with her best friend. He wouldn't be embarrassed to admit Sam's nearly pathological attachment to the girl that caused her the most pain, albeit unintentionally, confused him.

Sam suppressed a flinch at the mention of her friend's name. "We're not arguing."

_Three __**not**__ down._ Even if he hadn't noticed the way her hands had clenched slightly the precise way she'd answered would have tipped him off. "But it _does_ involve Carly…"

She really _really _hated it when he was more perceptive than she was inscrutable. "Can I go now?" Without waiting for permission she stood and threw her backpack over her shoulder. "You wouldn't want me to miss second period…"

Ted stood with her, warning, "_Samantha_…"

It wasn't enough he'd killed her high? Now he wanted to poke fresh wounds? "Can't you just suspend me and let me go?" Her tone was almost pleading.

"Talk to me." He moved around the desk to sit in the chair next to hers.

Falling back into her seat with a defeated huff Sam shook her head. "Carly didn't do anything." She didn't _need_ to – the world just naturally revolved around her…

If it wasn't _directly_ about Carly then it had to be about Freddie. That would've been fourth on Ted's checklist, though it probably should have been first. "What happened?"

Sam's hand moved to her chest before she remembered she wasn't wearing the necklace. It had barely left her body since her birthday; hidden beneath her clothes, masked by other chains, but still there. And now it wasn't. Dropping the hand to her lap she blinked back tears. "Nothing I want to talk about."

After a minute of silence Ted inquired casually, "You're not wearing it?" He'd caught her absentmindedly toying with the pendant during their last meeting; she'd hedged for a bit before warily admitting where she'd gotten it. It wasn't often they spoke of her feelings for Freddie – she'd always say they were under control – but he knew the gift had deeply affected her.

"No." As much as it had hurt to take it off the last thing she needed was to feel close to him; she was having a hard enough time keeping perspective as it was.

Ted kept his tone light. "Why not?"

Turning her attention to one of the baubles on the desk Sam sighed, "'Cause it's a reminder I can do without right now."

And this was why they'd spent many _many_ hours in his office: getting a complete story was like pulling teeth. "Did he do something to upset you?"

Sam let out a bitter laugh that ended in an unflattering snort. "Yeah – he suddenly decided he loves me."

Ted blinked, trying to figure out if she was serious or if it was her morbid sense of humor. "And that's bad?" he asked carefully.

"It is when he just _thinks _he does." Spinning the miniature globe she stopped it with a finger. _Cyprus._ She liked Greek food. She never could get the hang of the language, though…

"I'm going to need a bit more explanation than that, Sam." She looked up in surprise, almost like she wasn't aware she'd been talking, and Ted was afraid he'd broken the spell somehow.

God, she was tired. Forcing her voice even she told him, "I had a plan. It backfired. Instead of getting over him I'm in deeper, and now he thinks he's in love with me." _No big thing._

He wouldn't ask what the plan was; was familiar enough with her 'plans' to know he was better off _not _knowing. Plausible deniability was crucial when it came to Sam Puckett… "Why do you say he just _thinks _he does?"

Sam didn't even dignify that with a response, just an incredulous eyebrow.

Ted sighed. For the last two years he'd been trying to tell her that things change, _people_ change, and that she should give the boy a chance. Their friendship had grown by leaps and bounds once she'd disarmed some of her defense mechanisms and _let_ it; the fact that Freddie didn't hesitate to get as close as she'd allow spoke volumes. The birthday gift said even more. At least to him. "Sam, you're well aware of where I stand on the matter…"

Turning back to the globe Sam countered wryly, "Yeah, well, you haven't had a front-row seat to the Creddie show since the sixth grade." He wasn't the one with his heart on the line, either…

"In which case my opinion is perhaps a little less biased than yours, wouldn't you agree?" Her whole problem was that she was stuck in the past, unwilling (_unable,_ even) to see that things _had _changed.

Biased or not, Sam felt the way she did for a reason. It wasn't like she'd woken up one morning and thought, 'Hey – that brunette I call my best friend? Maybe she's better than me…' Fighting the stinging in her eyes she shrugged, "It's Carly."

That it was _that _simple to her broke Ted's heart. She was so used to being unfavorably compared to both Melanie and Carly she couldn't see she was a desirable young woman in her own right. Beautiful, creative, brilliant. _Resilient_. She'd experienced more in her seventeen years than many people did in a lifetime and had a plethora of scars and neuroses to show for it. "I wish you'd talk to someone, Sam," he told her, not for the first time.

She didn't take her gaze from the globe, a country whose name she had no hope in hell of pronouncing peeking out from beneath her fingernail. She definitely wasn't moving _there_… "I'm talking to _you_." It was her standard response whenever the subject came up.

"You know what I mean." As much as Ted would like to 'fix' her he was in no way qualified – she needed the help of a professional. To deal with her childhood, her home life, her inferiority complex, her abandonment issues… Placing a gentle hand on her arm he prompted, "Sam, look at me."

Sam finally looked up, the concern in his eyes nearly undoing her composure. Patting his hand (part condescension, part comfort) she assured him, "I'm fine, okay?" She'd get through it like she'd gotten through everything else.

Ted had no doubt she'd convinced herself she _was_, too proud and stubborn to admit (even to herself) that there were some things she couldn't just will away. "You're _not_ fine. Until you're able to work through your past and let it go you're just letting it control you."

"Just because I don't always do what you want doesn't mean I'm not _in_ _control_…" she informed him through clenched teeth.

He'd known it would hit a nerve – she valued control above all else because she'd had so little of it growing up – but it was a truth she needed to face. "We are the sum of our experiences, Sam; there's nothing to be ashamed of in that. The problem is that you're allowing what happened _then_ dictate how you view things now…" With regards to Freddie, to Carly, to _herself_.

Sam gave a disinterested wave, beyond done with the conversation. "It may not be overlooking the Sound but there's nothing wrong with my 'view.'" And nothing he said was going to make her believe differently.

Defeated, Ted leaned back in his chair. He knew if he forced the issue he ran the risk of her not talking to him, _either_, and that wasn't a chance he was willing to take when he was the only one she _would_ talk to. "So what are you going to do?"

That was the million dollar question, wasn't it? And for once Sam didn't have a ready answer, smart-ass or otherwise. Adopting a half-hearted grin she proposed, "Go home?" The adrenaline had long worn off, leaving her drained.

Ted took in her bloodshot eyes and shaky smile and knew she was as exhausted emotionally as she was physically. "Do you need to see the nurse first?" It didn't seem like the fight had escalated to that degree (there were no visible signs of damage) but she certainly wouldn't volunteer the information if it had.

Sam shook her head – the nurse couldn't do anything for the pain in her chest – but she was hoping to use his concern to her advantage, negotiating, "For the week?"

"For the _day_," he clarified, his look telling her not to push her luck. He wasn't naïve as to _why_ she was fishing for a suspension. "To let things cool down with Trevor…"

_Can't blame a girl for trying._ She stood when he did, burying the need to hug him. It wasn't appropriate, he'd told her, and while she normally didn't care about appropriate she didn't want him losing his job over it. For his sake or hers. "Tomorrow, then," she feigned anticipation. At least she had a mid-day nap to look forward to…

It hurt that he couldn't provide the physical comfort she needed (that he knew she wouldn't seek out elsewhere) but Ted was already walking a fine line; spent more time with her than the rest of his students combined. Appearance of favoritism aside she was of the age where other suspicions had begun to surface and he had to be very careful not to add fuel to the flames. Just because he saw her as family didn't mean everyone _believed_ he did… "Sam…"

She stood in the open doorway, almost hesitant, while she waited for him to speak.

Sitting at his desk he told her, tone brooking no dissent, "I expect you in early to have breakfast with me." They'd leave the door open, that's all.

Sam didn't know if he was worried she'd do something stupid or he was just trying to make sure she ate; either way it was more than she felt she deserved after what she'd done. "Sir, not that I don't appreciate everything you do for me…"

"No 'buts,' Samantha," he interrupted firmly, but not without a smile. "At the very least you are excellent practice for when my daughters become rebellious teenagers…"

Despite the levity tears filled her eyes again. "_Okay_," she whispered hoarsely.

"Okay." She made no move to leave and Ted knew she was mentally preparing herself for the world outside the safety of his office. Turning to his computer he allowed her to do it without an audience.


	14. Chapter 12

**Hello, all. Another chapter for you beautiful people :)**

**I have an opportunity for a Sam POV in a couple of chapters (would be 14, I think) so I would like to know what you guys thought about the last chapter and if you'd like to see Sam's POV again. I know it's a little heavier and darker than Freddie's so I'm leaving it up to you, the readers. Your input is invaluable so please share.**

**As always, thanks for reading and reviewing. I'm getting to the point where things aren't preset anymore so any suggestions/ things you'd like to see are more than welcome.**

**And finally, special thanks to Samantha Nicole Trewyn for nominating this story in her iMust Read list - I'm very honored!**

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><p>They didn't see Sam the rest of the morning. Word around school was that she'd spent it in Principal Franklin's office before being sent home, and at lunch Freddie went to the parking lot to find her car gone. He debated skipping the afternoon to go check on her but decided she was upset with him enough already. He did skip archery, though, taking the bus to her house as soon as school let out. Carly had a meeting of the yearbook committee so they were getting together only later for rehearsal; that gave him two hours to get Sam to talk to him. Or kill him, depending on how it went. He wasn't really liking his odds…<p>

Walking up to the small two-story house he was relieved to see the Gremlin in the driveway. When knocking and ringing the bell produced no result (Sam was undoubtedly still ignoring him) he tried the front door only to find it locked. Lacking her talent for B&E he walked around to the back to see if hopefully she'd left that one open, and he was surprised when he turned the corner to find her curled up on the trampoline, sleeping peacefully. Suddenly Frothy appeared to glare with creepy feline eyes and Freddie stopped abruptly to direct a frantic '_Ssh_!' at the cat he hadn't even seen beside her. Frothy didn't stop glaring but he didn't alert Sam either, so Freddie was able to watch her for a few minutes while he decided what to do.

"You gonna say something or you just gonna stare at me all day?" Sam whispered hoarsely, opening eyes still cloudy with sleep.

Freddie jumped at the sound of her voice then closed the distance between them. "How'd you do that?" He hadn't made a single noise since he'd stopped walking. Of course now that he was closer Frothy was up on his haunches hissing at him… That cat had never liked him – Freddie suspected Sam had trained him _not_ to – and he was grateful when she shushed the overprotective feline and pushed him gently to the grass.

Sitting up she yawned, "Ninja skills. What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to make sure you're okay," Freddie admitted as she stretched. She probably wouldn't like it but too bad; too much had happened in the last week for him to just let it be.

"Why wouldn't I be?" She was fine. She was _always_ fine. F.I.N.E. _fine_.

"Can't you just answer the question?" Freddie sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Sam looked at him blankly. "Let's go to instant replay, shall we?" Pressing a button on her imaginary remote she imitated him, "'I wanted to make sure you're okay.'" She pressed the same imaginary button to end the recording. "Judges?" Making a buzzer sound she pointed at Freddie. "I'm sorry but the judges have determined there was no question. Thank you for playing; we have some lovely parting gifts for you." _Like a kick in the church pants_.

"Sam…"

"Freddie…" she mimicked in a sneer.

Freddie sighed again. "You know what I meant – can we not argue semantics?" She was going to make this as difficult as she possibly could, he knew, and he couldn't let her distract him or intimidate him into giving in. He moved to sit on the edge of the trampoline next to her.

"I'm _fine_," Sam growled, putting out a hand to stop him. "And I didn't say you could sit." She didn't want him anywhere near her.

He sat anyway. "Considering you bought this with my and Carly's money you don't really get a say," he joked lightly. She didn't look impressed. "You look tired…"

"Well someone just interrupted my nap. Three guesses on who that someone is and the first two don't count." Her tongue was acid. It had taken her hours just _to _fall asleep; big surprise that _he_ came around and ruined it.

Ignoring her tone he waited until he was sure she wouldn't literally kick him off. "What happened with Franklin?"

Sam fixed her gaze on the faded paneling of the back of the house. "Nothing."

_Nothing? _"He sent you home, Sam… I thought you said you couldn't get in trouble?" He swore she thought she was invincible. It worried him that one of these days she'd get herself into a situation she couldn't talk or fight her way out of.

"Unclench your buttocks, Fredward," she advised with a roll of the eyes, "It's just for the day to let things cool down. Not even a suspension." He didn't need to know she'd practically _begged_ Ted to suspend her. Sometimes being Principal's Pet really sucked…

"Did he hurt you?" Freddie asked softly. He wanted to check her himself – certain she would just lie – but he didn't think she'd appreciate it.

Sam turned to look at him in confusion. "Franklin?"

He couldn't tell if she was being intentionally obtuse. "_Trevor_."

"Oh." That made more sense; her brain was still a little fuzzy. "A bit, but it was worth it." The physical pain was a nice distraction from the emotional. Ted really did know her too well…

Freddie tried not to show his concern, or his surprise at her honesty. He was starting to realize if he wanted a straight answer the best time to get it was when she was half-asleep. "Did you tell your mom?"

"Nope."

"_Sam_…"

Sam glared at him. "She's not back yet, okay?" Not that she'd tell her if she were. Sam wouldn't care to share and her mother wouldn't care to know.

He'd been wondering why Sam still had the car… "I thought she was supposed to be back yesterday?"

Shrugging, Sam turned back to the house. Her mom was _supposed_ to do a lot of things.

"Well, when is she going to be back?" Freddie prodded. He didn't like Sam being by herself, especially with the Trevor thing going on.

"What's with the twenty questions?" When he didn't flinch at her glare she sighed. "She'll come home when she's not having fun anymore or the guy runs out of money. They usually happen at the same time, by the way."

Freddie hated that she couldn't (or wouldn't) see the seriousness of the situation. "It's not a joke, Sam."

"I'm not _laughing_, Freddie." _God_. When had he turned into his mother?

"_Sam_…"

"Freddie, I swear if you say my name in that tone _one more time_…" She laid on her back to look at the sky. "If you're done with the inquisition you can go."

He moved to sit Indian-style beside her. "We need to talk, Sam."

She didn't need to ask what it was he thought they needed to talk about. She kept her face impassive, knowing he was trying to read her. "There's nothing to talk about; it didn't happen." She realized that by saying it didn't happen she was admitting it had happened but she didn't care: Freddie needed to know it hadn't happened. Even if it had.

"If you're just going to pretend I didn't say anything then why avoid me for two days?" He didn't know if he was more hurt that she was pretending it hadn't happened or that her solution was to ignore him. He wasn't surprised, just hurt.

"The whole thing, Freddie, not just Saturday." Sam stared at the shapes in the clouds as they moved by. "It was a bad idea to begin with; Saturday just proved it." _And how_. She'd barely slept or eaten in the last two days trying to figure out where she'd gone wrong. With a little time set aside to plot petty revenge, of course.

Going back to before last week was exactly what Freddie had wanted to avoid. "Why? Because I have feelings for you?"

Bunny. Five-legged turtle. If she squinted and tilted her head that one looked like a pirate. _Aargh!_ "You don't have feelings for me, Freddie; you're just displacing." That fluffy one looked like cotton candy. Her stomach rumbled in agreement.

"Can you at least _look_ at me while you tell me how I feel?" Freddie snapped, tired of having half her attention. When she finally turned to him (albeit disdainfully) he parroted, "Displacing?" He had no idea she even knew the concept.

"I learned about it from Franklin; it's when you transfer your feelings for one thing onto another. As in…" Putting on her best Ted voice she repeated, "'_Samantha_, you are displacing your anger at your mother onto others. It is not logical, nor is it fair.'" 'Cause being logical and fair were right up there on her list of priorities…

"You talk to Franklin about your mom?" They still had their appointments (down to once or twice a month now) but Freddie assumed they just went over her various misdeeds. Fewer misdeeds meant fewer appointments…

"He was my court-appointed 'therapist.'" Though she hadn't _really_ started talking to him until after the thing with her dad. With things the way they were now she almost wished she _hadn't_.

She hadn't been lying when she'd said he didn't know everything; Freddie felt like he learned a new secret every time he talked to her. "How'd that happen?"

"The second time I got arrested they couldn't find my mom so they called Principal Franklin." _Two days later_; she'd told them she'd been visiting a cousin in Spokane, hard-pressed to find a relative they _didn't_ know was in jail. "I was released into his custody with certain conditions, one of them being the weekly meetings." She gave him a look that said that was all he was getting.

Well that explained why she'd always been strangely chummy with their principal. Maybe Freddie should've gone to him for advice after all… "And just what is it that you think I'm displacing?"

Sam rolled her eyes and turned her gaze skyward again. The pirate had caught up to the bunny and was stabbing it with his pointy hook. "Your feelings for Carly. _Duh_." Forcing a smile she continued. "For once you're not being rejected; it's throwing you for a loop and making you think you have feelings for me."

"Uh…I don't think that's how displacement works," he disputed.

"Whatever. You know what I mean," Sam waved her hand disinterestedly. She didn't even have the energy to come up with a scathing nickname; all of it was going into the effort to keep emotion out of her voice. "Carly's not a viable option so you're projecting your feelings for her onto me. And that was not part of the plan." _So_ not part of the plan. She could accept the sharing and she could deal with spending time together; what she couldn't handle was him acting like he loved her when she knew it wasn't true.

Freddie processed what she was saying. "Sam, you don't know how I feel…"

"Do _you_ know how you feel?" She raised a skeptical eyebrow at him, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I'm not Carly, Freddie. I'll never be Carly." Been there, done that. All she'd gotten were cramped hands from spending an hour straightening her hair every morning and migraines from gritting her teeth so hard all the time.

"I don't want you to be Carly," he promised. Those two weeks she'd been Samantha for Pete's sake he'd hated every minute of it, so much so that he'd almost screamed at her in frustration every time he'd seen her all 'daffodilian.' Outwardly he'd been supportive because Pete seemed to make her happy but he couldn't say he wasn't thrilled when she finally broke up with the guy and became Sam again.

Sam believed him; it didn't mean he didn't still prefer Carly, though. "Okay, let's put it this way: If this Trevor thing made Carly realize what a catch you are and she called you right now to get back together, what would you do?" It was killing her to have to walk him through this but she needed to make him realize what she already knew it was (and what it _wasn't_). The sooner he did that the better off they'd be.

For the first time Freddie broke his gaze from her face to focus on a random point in the distance. "I don't know." It would be easy to say he wouldn't go running to Carly but unless it actually happened he couldn't be sure. And a relationship with Carly would sure as hell be easier than one with Sam. Not _better_, just easier.

She'd known it was coming but hadn't been prepared for how much it would hurt. She sat up to discreetly wipe an errant tear away behind a curtain of hair, then pointed an accusing finger at him. "Exactly. You ruined everything because you're confusing physical with emotional." Someone was getting a big fat 'I told you so' with his breakfast…

"Just because I'm confused about Carly doesn't mean I don't have feelings for you." Freddie put a hand on her arm but she shrugged it off and hopped off the trampoline. "Sam…"

"You do not have feelings for me," she growled, losing control and spinning on him with hate in her eyes. "I know they say you are what you eat but I will _not_ be bacon, do you understand me?"

_Bacon_? "Why would you think you're bacon?" Was she implying he only loved her because she was going to sleep with him? Did she really think he was that shallow? He got off the trampoline and approached her cautiously.

Sam barked a laugh. "It's been a week, Freddie. All it took was _one week_ for you to go from zero to in love with me? The only thing that's changed is the agreement…"

Shaking his head Freddie argued, "No! _We _changed because of the agreement." He waved a hand between them, trying to get her to understand. "Sam, this week has been incredible. And not just because of the physical." If he said the physical had nothing to do with it he'd be lying and she'd know it. "You let me in; I've seen a side of you this week you've never let me see before…"

"You're gonna be seeing my fist in your face soon if you don't drop it." It had taken her all of Sunday to calm down enough just to be in his presence; it seemed he was determined to shatter what little hold she had left.

Freddie grabbed her hands so she couldn't make good on her threat. "I'm serious, Sam. Things have been changing between us for years and I think maybe we would've gotten here eventually anyway…"

"There is no '_us_,' Freddie!" This wasn't some chick flick where the boy fell in love with the misunderstood delinquent from the wrong side of the tracks; this was real life, hell, this was _Sam's _life, where the only part she got to play was just trying to make it through the day because there was a perfectly sweet innocent _deserving_ girl right next door. "Stop making this into something it isn't!" Yanking her hands from his she started to walk towards the house.

"Sam, stop. _Please_." When she didn't Freddie spun her around and gripped her shoulders so she'd have to look at him. He put everything he was feeling into his eyes. "Tell me you don't feel anything for me."

"I feel a lot of things for you," Sam hissed, "Irritation, anger, pity, derision…" She would have gone on but suddenly his arms were around her and his lips were on hers and she gasped unwittingly into his mouth.

After a minute Freddie broke the kiss without releasing her, opening his eyes to find her staring at him in a daze. "Tell me you didn't feel anything," he whispered gruffly.

Not moving out of his arms Sam took a second to gather her wits. "Lust is not the same thing as love, Freddie."

He held onto the fact that she hadn't responded in the negative. Resting his forehead against hers he dared her, voice desperate, "Tell me you don't have feelings for me." It didn't even have to be love, just something he could work with.

More than anything Sam wanted to just give in and enjoy it while it lasted, fool herself into believing it was really her he wanted, that she would be _enough_. Except as good as she was at deceiving others she'd never been very good at deluding herself, and she knew she wouldn't survive finally having him just to lose him. Pulling away she met his stare unwaveringly. "I don't have feelings for you." The trick to lying effectively was saying it like you really meant it; she almost believed it herself she was so convincing.

Freddie flinched as though she'd physically hit him. He supposed he should be grateful she'd let him down easy. Well, easy if you didn't count all the hoops she'd made him jump through to get there. Still, he was angry. Mostly with himself. For falling for someone else that didn't return his feelings. For completely misreading the situation. For ruining what they'd had this past week because he was an idiot and had gotten attached. "So that's it, then?" _Done_. Just like that…

"I'm sorry, Freddie." And she was. His feelings may not have been real but at the moment they were real _to_ _him_. If she were a better person she would go along with it and let him figure it out for himself. She wasn't a better person, though; she wasn't strong enough to be.

He didn't need, or want, her pity. What he wanted was for her to tell him she was joking, that it was just another one of her pranks. She didn't. "I have to go."

Sam just nodded. She wouldn't stop him – as soon as he was gone she had an appointment with her pillow. First she'd have to call Carly and cancel rehearsal, though. On second thought she'd just text her; there was no way she trusted her voice.

With one last lingering look Freddie turned and jogged all the way home.


	15. Chapter 13

**Hi guys! I know it's been a while but you had gotten a couple of chapters in short order and I needed to focus on my other story for a bit.**

**Also, I'm kinda at a loss as to how to continue. I know some of you think Sam is being irrational and difficult, and I do agree to a certain point but I also think it's realistic that she'd feel that way. So while a part of me wants to listen to you guys and resolve it quickly the other part wants to stay true to my original vision. This is the part of being a fic writer that really sucks lol But you guys should be flattered at how influential you are :)**

**As always thanks for reading and reviewing!**

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><p>Freddie watched Sam as her and Carly wrapped up the show. He went through the motions, knowing that as soon as he called it clear she'd be out the door. For the last three days she'd avoided him like he was work, spending lunch with Wendy instead of him and Carly (he worried about what she was eating, <em>if<em> she was eating) and staying only as long as she needed to for _iCarly_ meetings (though when she was there it was as though nothing had happened). And while part of him was grateful for the distance he mostly felt like she was punishing him for his feelings. He missed her like crazy, his days boring without her around to cause trouble or be her usual 'charming' self, and he'd lost count of how many times he'd picked up the phone to call her only to stop because he was at a loss for what to say.

"_Freddie_!" Carly hissed into his ear. They'd said their goodbyes a good forty seconds before and she'd had to sidle up beside him to try to get his attention.

"Sorry." Freddie considered keeping it going so Sam would have to stay but finally gave in and shut down the feed. "We're clear."

Sam ceased her aimless dancing, swallowing the reprimand that was on her lips. It was taking everything she had just to hold herself together so she couldn't really fault him for being a little off. Especially not when he was looking like a kicked puppy. "I'll see you guys tomorrow."

Carly waited until Sam was gone before tilting her head sympathetically at Freddie. "You want to talk about it?" She'd promised Sam she wouldn't interfere but she wanted things back the way they were. The last couple of days had been majorly suckish, and she was pretty sure she knew now how Freddie had felt when she and Sam were fighting.

"I'm fine," he lied as he watched Sam disappear down the hall, then turned to putting his gear away. "There's nothing to talk about."

"Right. And I'm Ryan Seacrest." Carly joined him at the cart, putting her hand on his arm. "I want to help, Freddie." She didn't know _how _but she had to try.

Freddie finally met her eyes. "What did Sam tell you?" Carly hadn't said a word about Sam's change in routine so he figured she'd been given a really good story; he was curious to know what it was.

Sam was barely telling her _anything_ lately; ever since her birthday she'd been distant. "No details – just that you were having a 'difference of opinion' on something and she was giving you time to get over it." Carly wasn't _so_ oblivious as to not know what it was, though they both seemed to think she was.

Yeah, like Sam really cared about his feelings; she was avoiding him so she didn't have to deal with it – Freddie wasn't stupid enough to believe differently. "Let's go with that, then," he shrugged, dropping into a beanbag.

Obviously he wasn't going to volunteer the information without a push. Hands on her hips Carly revealed, "I know you have feelings for her, okay? So you might as well just fess up…"

"You said she didn't tell you!" He hadn't been able to cover his surprise, and he realized too late he'd given himself away. Sam would be ashamed. If she were talking to him...

"She didn't have to; I know your 'I'm smitten' face, remember?" If Carly's voice was a little wistful it was just a coincidence. She pulled a beanbag over to sit next to him. "I'm guessing you told her Saturday night?" It had taken her a bit but she'd managed to put the pieces together. She still wasn't sure how she felt about it.

The jig was apparently up, and Freddie found that he was sorta relieved. "Yeah," he sighed. Carly could figure out how badly it went all on her own.

"Oh, Freddie…" Carly didn't understand how he kept getting himself into these situations; maybe if she knew the whole story she could help him get _out_. "Why?"

"I asked Sam to go to the Groovy Smoothie last week, but not for _iCarly_." It felt good to finally be able to talk about it but he still skipped the part where they'd made the deal; he didn't think Carly would continue to be sympathetic if she knew and he didn't want her blaming Sam.

Carly shook a knowing finger at him, feeling vindicated. "I _knew_ you were acting weird!" Her finger stopped mid-shake, and she raised a suspicious eyebrow. "So she didn't know it was a date?" It wasn't like Sam to miss something like that…

"It wasn't _really_ a date," he deflected, "I just wanted Sam to talk to me about something other than you or _iCarly_. You know, get to know her better…"

"Going for smoothies, getting to know each other…" Carly pretended to think about it, then concluded sarcastically, "You're right; that doesn't sound like a date _at all_!"

The sarcasm wasn't appreciated but at least the subject was changed. "Fine, it was a non-date then."

And that didn't answer _her question_ at all.

"It's a date without the label," Freddie supplied, taking her lack of reply for lack of understanding.

"I know what it is!" Carly defended with a pout. She wasn't stupid. "Why are you avoiding the question?"

"I'm not." He smiled uncomfortably. "Hey, are those new earrings?"

Swatting his arm Carly groaned, "_Did Sam know?_"

Freddie gave up; she would probably find out eventually anyway. "Yeah, she knew."

Label or no label Carly couldn't see Sam agreeing to a date with Freddie. "Why would she go?"

"Free smoothies?" he suggested hopefully. In hindsight he should have just lied…

The skeptical eyebrow made another appearance. "Try again." Sam didn't love smoothies _that much_.

"Um, I kinda sorta…" Freddie looked down at his clasped hands, cringing in anticipation of her reaction. "…blackmailed her." It wasn't _technically_ true but he didn't know how else to put it; if he told her he'd been withholding sex he was pretty sure her head would explode…

Carly's mouth dropped open. "Blackmail?...What?...Why would…" Grabbing onto his shirt sleeve she cried, "Why would you _blackmail_ Sam?"

Freddie threw his hands up in defeat. "'Cause I was tired of feeling like we're only friends because of you, okay?"

"Right…" Carly rolled her eyes. "'Cause nothing says 'let's be friends' like blackmail!" He was lucky Sam was _just_ avoiding him.

The last thing Freddie needed was a visit from the Sass Master. "I didn't have a choice," he said, exasperated. "Before last week I didn't even know her dad was alive much less that she was in touch with him."

Carly hadn't known Sam was talking to her dad either (mental note to grill and/or confront her best friend later) but that was hardly the issue. "I still don't see how one 'non-date' has you suddenly crushing on her…"

Freddie was so tired of defending how he felt. "It's not just a crush, Carly, and it _wasn't_ just the one time. On Saturday we had a picnic and she let me teach her how to fence." It had only been five days but already it seemed so long ago. He'd give anything to be back there again, and it killed him that he had no one to blame but himself.

Not just a crush? Picnics and fencing? Carly was sure it was a joke. Except he wasn't laughing. Why wasn't he laughing? "Oh my God," she breathed, "What do you have on her?"

At least she believed him, even if she _did_ think he'd helped Sam hide a body or something. "It doesn't matter why she did it, Carly." It only mattered that she did. "I finally felt like I was more than just some nub she put up with to make you happy, you know?" They'd had their moments but never anything close to that.

Carly looked at him sadly. "Oh, Freddie. I don't think it counts if you _made_ her do all those things…" She knew he wanted to believe this changed something but it didn't. "And how do you know she was being honest about anything anyway?"

She wasn't saying anything he hadn't already considered but he resented it all the same. "Why can't you just let me have this?"

"'Cause I don't like seeing you hurt, Freddie." He had to know that 'this' wasn't real, especially now. "A few forced dates does not make it a relationship…"

Freddie shook his head. He needed to convince Carly it was real before she managed to convince him it wasn't. "It wasn't like that." Sam may not have feelings for him but he couldn't accept that it was _all_ a sham. "We got… _close_."

"Freddie, please tell me you didn't blackmail Sam into kissing you…" she begged, well aware of his definition of 'close.'

He _really_ wished he hadn't cheapened everything that had happened between them by using the word 'blackmail.' Maybe it was for the best that Sam didn't want anything to do with him; it would have made for an awkward bedtime story if they ever had kids. He could hear it now: 'Dad, tell me about how you and Mom fell in love.' 'Well, Piggles, I blackmailed your mother into dating me. But it's _OK_ 'cause it was only _after_ she talked me into taking her virginity.' Fairy tale material it wasn't…

Carly took his silence as confirmation. "Freddie, you _didn't_!" Her tone couldn't have been more scandalized if she'd tried.

Coming back to the conversation he _was_ having Freddie's eyes widened. "What? _No_!" He couldn't have her thinking he was physically forcing himself on Sam. He didn't know how she _could _think that… "She's the one who kissed me!"

_Whoa_. "Really?"

Freddie nodded guiltily. So much for keeping Sam out of it…

"Oh." He seemed to be telling the truth; if he were lying it'd be written all over his face. "Well then she was probably just getting back at you…"

"By making out with me repeatedly?" If anything that would be more of a punishment for Sam than for him.

Making out? Repeatedly? Carly had to resist the urge to pinch herself – she felt like she'd stumbled into Bizarro-land. "Well then she was just lonely, you know? She hasn't had a boyfriend since Max."

Ugh, _Max_. The knife-collecting version of Griffin, aka the perfect guy for Sam. The first time they'd met he'd greeted Sam with 'Hey, Mama' and Freddie's hatred had been instantaneous. When Max started referring to himself as 'Daddy' it had turned into full on loathing. It was a good thing it'd only lasted a month otherwise Freddie might have killed him. Or at the very least tried. "She can't be that lonely – she broke up with him. And she's had offers since."

Fair enough. "Okay, well then she was just messing with you for…" There had to be some rational explanation. "I don't know – revenge? Pity? Her own amusement?" Knowing Sam it could be all of the above.

If 'well then' was Carly's version of 'but wait' then Freddie knew why she'd been so frustrated. "Is it that inconceivable that she'd _want _to kiss me?" Carly was as bad for his ego as Spencer was, not that that was any big surprise. He laid back to stare at the ceiling sullenly.

"It's not inconceivable, Freddie," Carly soothed. It had happened before, after all. "But would we be here right now if she had feelings for you?" Whatever Sam's reasons for going along with the dating charade Carly didn't think she'd expected, or wanted, _this_ to happen.

Freddie shook his head. "She couldn't have just faked it, Carly. It was real." He denied the possibility that he might be in denial.

"I hate to say this, Freddie, but Sam can make you believe whatever she wants you to believe." Carly loved Sam but she was well aware her best friend could be manipulative and deceptive when she chose to be.

And she'd _wanted_ him to believe she was giving in to his conditions, all the while pushing him to get it over with as soon as possible… "I guess you're right," he admitted, closing his eyes against the tears. He was such a fool.

The whole thing was a big hot mess with more than enough blame to go around: Freddie for the blackmail, Sam for doing whatever it was he'd blackmailed her with, Sam _again_ for being a complete sociopath. Carly just wished the blonde had been more careful with Freddie's feelings; he fell so fast and hurt so easily. In her softest tone she told him, "You're just going to have to get over it."

Freddie opened his eyes to glare at her. Easy for her to say – she'd only ever been on Sam's end of things. "How can I get over it when she's treating me like a freaking leper?" How could he even pretend things were okay if she was purposefully making things _not _okay?

Carly didn't know _why _Sam had wanted him to believe the act was real but she knew the blonde regretted it. "She's trying to give you space, Freddie. She probably thinks it's easier for you if you don't have to be around her."

Maybe it was but he didn't care. "I just want things back the way they were. If I can't have…" Freddie trailed off, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I need to at least have that."

"Ok." Taking his hand in hers Carly promised, "I'll talk to Sam."

* * *

><p>"So, Frederina…"<p>

Freddie looked up from his locker to find Sam leaning lazily against Duke's. He smiled at the new nickname. "What's that supposed to be? Ballerina?"

Sam forced a smile in return. "I was actually thinking 'Katerina' but yours works, too." She watched his smile drop and the pain come back to his eyes, and she knew it wasn't because she'd called him a girl. "Anyway, movie night tonight. You up for 'Wake up Spencer?'"

With her standing there, teasing him, he'd momentarily forgotten how messed up things were. Sighing, he shut his locker and stood. "You're not mad I told Carly?"

What _possible_ reason could she have to be mad? Him opening his mouth about something that was supposed to be private? Or the hour-long lecture she'd gotten on keeping secrets and considering other people's feelings (like Carly was one to talk, on either issue)? Narrowing her eyes she feigned ignorance. "Told Carly what?" Okay, she was a _little_ mad…

"About, you know…" Why else would she be speaking to him? If she _didn't_ know then he could kiss this truce goodbye. "I thought she talked to you?"

Sam hated that she felt guilty for the panic in his voice. "Relax, Fredward – I'm kidding. She called me last night." Once the lecture was over the one-sided conversation had continued with 'Don't worry, it's just a phase' and 'You know he _really_ loves me.' It was meant to be comforting but it had been anything but.

"I'm glad this is funny to you," Freddie bit off. He couldn't believe she was making jokes about it.

Yeah – she was laughing on the inside. Poker face in place she shrugged, "I think telling her was stupid but it was your choice."

Of course she did; she thought _everything_ he did was stupid. "I didn't tell her about the deal, Sam."

"I'm not talking about the deal." Sam didn't want to talk (or think) about the deal ever again. "You're just lucky she knows it's a phase."

_Lucky_? "This is you kidding again, right? 'Cause how is any of this _lucky_ for me?" He stopped to take a breath – he'd wanted things back to normal; yelling about it _not _being a phase wouldn't help. "Whatever. You want to do 'Wake up Spencer,' we'll do 'Wake up Spencer.'"

She didn't _want _to do 'Wake up Spencer.' She didn't even want to do movie night, but Carly was all gung-ho on getting things back to normal. And if Sam was going to talk the talk of being over it then she needed to walk the walk. Even if it killed her. "Good. I'll pick up the whipped cream." She gave him a curt nod before turning away. "Later, Fredderly."

Two weeks ago Freddie would've offered to get the whipped cream just to make sure she didn't steal it; now he just watched her walk away.

* * *

><p>"So he comes back, right? And Wendy takes one look at him and goes, 'What'd ya do with the banana, Benji?' We laughed so much I almost peed."<p>

Carly made a disgusted face and put down her half-eaten sandwich. "That's great, Sam."

Apparently they didn't find her story amusing. Shrugging, Sam allowed, "I guess you had to be there."

"Yeah, _I guess so_." Freddie's tone was harsh – he really didn't need to know about all the fun she'd had while avoiding him.

"_Anyway,_" Carly cut in before Sam could respond, "What are we going to watch tonight?" So far Sam was ignoring all Freddie's little passive-aggressive digs but she could tell by the blonde's clenched jaw she was nearing her breaking point.

"I don't care," Sam shrugged. Freddie would just disagree with whatever she suggested out of spite anyway.

"Of course you don't," he muttered around his slice of cucumber. Was there anything she _did _care about? Other than making people miserable?

Sam opened her mouth to rip him a new one, then shut it with an audible _snap!. _She was no stranger to lashing out when hurting; didn't mean she had to stick around and be his punching bag, though. "I've got an appointment with Franklin." Grabbing her backpack she left without looking at him.

"Wow," Carly breathed once Sam was gone, "When you said you wanted things the way they were I didn't realize you meant 'at the beginning,' but with your roles reversed…" Except Sam's aggression had always been active. And more entertaining somehow; this was just painfully awkward. Or awkwardly painful.

Freddie shrugged. "If we're gonna pretend the last two weeks haven't happened then why not the last six years?"

Carly knew he was just feigning indifference, his eyes a maelstrom of emotion. "Is that really what you want?"

"I want her to at least _pretend_ she cares!" He was dying inside and she was talking about bananas, for God's sake. And apparently she'd turned him into a drama queen, besides…

Sam didn't care openly; he should know that by now. "She cares enough to try to get past this, Freddie." Carly broke it to him gently: "You're not exactly making it easy for either of you."

Freddie dropped his gaze to his hands on the table. "What am I supposed to do, Carly? I can't unsay it. I can't unsay it, and I can't unfeel it, and I don't know that I would if I could."

"Just hang on until you get over it," Carly advised, putting her hand over his.

"Stop!" Freddie glared at her. "I'm so tired of you guys telling me this is just some _phase_ I'm gonna get over! Neither of you know how I feel!"

Ignoring the curious stares of the students around them Carly hid her hurt and pointed out, "Maybe not, but if you could get past it with me…"

Freddie threw his hands up, cutting her off and dislodging her hand. "God! Not everything is about _you_!" How was it both girls managed to make his feelings for Sam about Carly?

This time Carly couldn't hide it and her eyes filled with hurt.

"I'm sorry." He could have kicked himself for attacking her – none of it was her fault.

Carly waved it away. "Look, all I'm saying is that we managed to be friends." She went to take his hand again then stopped, settling for eye contact. "But Freddie, if you keep this up with Sam you won't even have that. Unless that's what you're going for…" Was it possible he was _trying_ to chase her off?

Running a hand through his hair Freddie sighed. "I don't know. I thought her avoiding me was bad but now…" He hated being so sensitive, admitting hoarsely, "This is worse, Carly. It hurts just to look at her, and part of me wants her to be hurting, too." He wasn't proud of it but there it was.

"I'm sorry, Freddie," she whispered. Sincerely; she didn't like seeing him like this, and it bothered her even more that he'd once been like this because of her.

Freddie smiled sadly. "It's just… it took us so long to get here, you know? And now she's giving me a 'back to square one' card and I don't want to go back. I don't know if I even _can_."

For the first time it occurred to Carly that his feelings might not be so temporary, or so sudden. Over the years he'd developed a tougher skin when it came to Sam's abuse, returning it even, until the exchanges had become almost flirtatious. She was so lost in thought she flinched when he stood.

"Do me a favor…" Freddie pulled the extra sandwich and a baggie of cookies from his backpack and put them in front of her. "Give that to Sam when you see her?"

* * *

><p><strong>Aw - I love Freddie. And I know I'm not doing myself any favors by making him so sympathetic but that's just the way it is. I can empathize with them both.<strong>

**Did you see Carly catch a clue at the end there? I think maybe next chapter she'll be confronting her best friend...**

**Until then...**


	16. Chapter 14

**Hi guys! I know I'm crazy late on this but I got sucked into my other story and though the main characters are similar it's a whole different mindset and thus difficult to switch between the two. And then the site wouldn't let me sign in until tonight so here we are :)**

* * *

><p>"I don't need to be here," Sam announced, tossing her backpack on the chair in front of the desk and dropping into the other one.<p>

_Good afternoon, Samantha; it's nice to see you, too._ She hadn't declared the meeting unnecessary when Ted had suggested it, though pointing that out wouldn't get him anywhere. "Perhaps I just wanted the pleasure of your company…"

Sam cocked an unimpressed eyebrow. "Seriously? You've had all morning to prepare and that's the best you've got?" If he was going to go that route he could have at least come up with something semi-plausible – she wasn't exactly a bucket 'o fun these days…

After years of finding viable excuses to get her talking he'd run out. "Well, you might be interested to know the Harlands have decided not to pursue a lawsuit…" It wouldn't go very far to teaching her that actions had consequences but she had a right to know.

"Good." Even though she'd expected it Sam was glad to have it confirmed; one less of her messes for him to have to (try to) clean up.

Ted watched her spin the globe for a second before mentioning, "I saw you having lunch with Carly and Freddie …" He knew she'd spent the rest of the week with the 'misfits' because vandalism of school property had gone up; he chose to believe it was them trying to impress her and not actually _her_ doing it. No, denial _wasn't_ just a river in Egypt.

"Are you stalking me now?" Sam queried without looking up. She really wouldn't put it past him…

"If by 'stalking' you mean going to the cafeteria to get my own lunch and coming across what seemed to be a rather tense situation…" he provoked, tapping the top of her head with his pen.

The reminder had Sam's lips forming an unintentional pout as she met his eyes. "You could have just said _no_…"

Had she forgotten how well he knew her? "If I _had_ you would have considered it the end of the conversation." It wasn't his first rodeo, as he'd heard the kids say.

Sam opened her mouth to deny it only to close it with narrowed eyes. "We're going back to '_normal_.'" When had she become the _least_ manipulative person in the room?

"And whose idea was that?" The air quotes and scorn told Ted it hadn't been hers.

"Carly's," Sam sighed, slumping back in her chair to fold her arms across her stomach. "Big mouth told her what happened…"

An educated guess determined 'big mouth' was Freddie; common sense dictated the boy certainly wasn't helping his case any. "He did?"

Sam laughed without humor. "Of course; she probably batted her eyelashes and said '_please'_ and he caved faster than…" Her usual limitless creativity escaped her and she finished lamely, "…something that caves really easily."

Her uncharacteristic struggle for words was at once entertaining and worrisome. "Do you really think that's an accurate assessment?" Leaning forward Ted proposed, "He's hurt and confused – perhaps he simply needed someone to talk to…"

"I've been hurt and confused for years," Sam scoffed, "you didn't see me running off to talk to anyone…"

Ted didn't even dignify that with a rebuttal, just an offended eyebrow.

That eyebrow creeped Sam the hell out. "You don't count," she quickly denied, "you're all old and it's your job…" Not to mention he didn't give her much _choice_ in the matter…

"_No,_ it's the counselor's job," Ted corrected. Then added a faux-indignant, "And I'm not old; I'm in my prime. And _hilarious,_ if you'll remember…"

Oh, yes: those _gigantic_ pants. Smiling at the memory Sam teased, "Oh, you know you were only hilarious 'cause I wrote your bit…"

"Of course," he agreed facetiously, returning the smile because, unlike on the show the night before, this one actually reached her eyes.

_Aha! _"Gibby on a diet!"

Ted blinked at the sudden (nonsensical) outburst. "I'm sorry?" Was it some code he'd forgotten?

Sam rolled her eyes, reiterating, "_He caved_ faster than Gibby on a diet… Better late than never, right?" She may be slow but she wasn't broken. _Thank God._

And he was supposed to have guessed that _how_? He swore sometimes she thought he was in her head… "Did it have to also be _mean_?"

"Uh, _yeah_…" Sam '_duh'_ed, "that's what makes it funny…" He just didn't get it 'cause he was old…

Ted would point out that 'mean' and 'funny' weren't synonymous but that would only start an entirely new discussion they didn't have time for. Checking his watch he prompted, "_Freddie_…"

The little detour obviously hadn't distracted him quite as effectively as Sam had hoped it would… "Fine, he needed someone to talk to," she allowed, if a tad disdainfully. "He couldn't have stuck with Spencer?"

"How do you know he talked to Spencer?" With Sam it was sometimes difficult to tell where observation ended and paranoia began …

How could she _not _know? As soon as Carly had told her about Sunday's great 'Parcheesi' incident it had all come together. "Those two couldn't keep a secret if their lives depended on it; if either of them ever gets a job involving national security we are _kerflucked_." After a second of reflection she qualified, "Of course that would require Spencer actually _getting _a job so the good 'ole U.S. of A is probably safe from him at least…"

Ted forwent telling her that not _everyone_ could be an emotional Fort Knox – mostly because she would take it as endorsement – to sigh, "Must you turn everything into a joke?"

"I must," Sam shrugged unapologetically. "Point _is_, when things were good he talked to Spencer; when it all went to hell he ran to Carly…" Coincidence? She thought _not_.

He was surprised she'd willingly returned to the topic at hand until he realized it was only because she thought she'd won. Well accustomed to the role of devil's advocate he reasoned, "In all fairness she's best friend to you both – who better to go to for advice when things 'went to hell'?"

Sam would be amused by his use of 'hell' if she weren't so busy hating his use of 'logic.' Tangling a finger in a curl she admitted, "I don't know. I guess him talking to her doesn't bother me as much as…"

She made no indication of continuing, just sat up and went back to the globe, and Ted decided he was going to have to start scheduling their meetings in two-hour blocks. "And _what?_"

"Never mind." It wasn't that she was worried about Ted's reaction, just that she didn't want to think about it herself.

Ted shook his head. "Obviously it's important…"

Sam had always thought the combined territories of France, Spain, and Portugal looked more like a boot than Italy did, but her perception was probably colored by her obsession with hobos. "As what she _said_, okay?" Who wanted to live in a hooker boot, anyway? Aside from Uncle Carmine and his band of wannabe mobsters…

The theme from Jeopardy played in Ted's head while he waited for her to elaborate. When it looped back to the beginning he put a finger under her chin and tilted her face up to him. "What did she say?"

She maintained eye contact even though her own had started to sting. "Nothing I didn't already know, but still…" The validation was bittersweet.

"_Sam_," he gently urged.

"That it's a phase and it'll go back to normal because he really loves _her_…" Taking a breath to calm herself she scolded, "See? I'm not as delusional as you like to tell me I am…"

Ted supposed it had been meant to come out as vindicated rather than regretful; knew that despite her certainty of it she hadn't _wanted_ to be right. He was going to give Carly the benefit of the doubt, though, and assume she was merely oblivious and not malicious. "Does she know the whole story?"

"God, no," Sam laughed bitterly, "Her pretty little head would explode in a fountain of Skittles…" He was referring to her feelings for Freddie; she was referring to it all. No one knew the _whole _whole story, not even Ted, and she planned on keeping it that way.

Just as he'd suspected. "Then how can you expect her to know what it is?" The brunette was probably just trying to make an uncomfortable situation less uncomfortable.

Sam rolled her eyes. Knowing might have changed what Carly _said_ but not what she _believed_. "_I_ know the whole story and you think _I'm _wrong – you can't have it both ways." Her tone was a touch harsher than she'd meant it to be.

She'd obviously misunderstood so Ted patiently explained, "You both tend to ignore his opinions and/or emotions when they don't support your own; if she believes his feelings towards you are unwelcome then she has no reason to consider whether or not they're sincere." Holding her guarded eyes he asked pointedly, "Are either of you actually _listening_ to the boy?"

"I listened…" Sam defended with a reserved huff. He hadn't exactly given her a choice, showing up at her house and making himself comfortable on _her _trampoline. She didn't care whose money bought it – possession was nine tenths of the law…

"Really?" Ted continued to hold her gaze, his skepticism palpable. "It wouldn't surprise me if your version of 'listened' entailed shutting down everything he said until he was forced to give up…" It was less speculation than a hypothesis based on extensive experience.

The pout made another appearance. "Whose side are you on here?" It was starting to feel suspiciously like an attack on her character and she didn't like it.

"Being on your side doesn't mean blindly agreeing with you, Sam," he informed her softly. It usually meant the exact opposite…

Sam knew he only looking out for her – that sometimes she _was_ her own worst enemy – and she willed her hackles down to voice a flip, "Are you sure? 'Cause I don't think I would have signed off on that…" Narrowing her eyes she added mock-fiercely, "Team Puckett demands the utmost obedience. Like the SS or SG…"

Her unpredictable changes in mood made Ted's head hurt. As did her slang. "SG?" he repeated warily.

"Sunshine Girls," she clarified, face exaggeratedly grave. "They're hardcore, yo…"

Ted rolled his eyes affectionately. "How on earth do you come up with these things?" Only she would dare put a kids' scouting group on par with a squad historically known for their crimes against humanity…

Sam was grateful for the moment of levity; that she could make him smile when lately it had been a whole lot of concern and frowning. "Hey – most people have to do drugs to see the world the way I do; you should just be glad it comes to me naturally…"

It was clearly a joke but it only reminded Ted how troubled she truly was. Getting serious again he rested his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers. "Can we get back to the matter at hand?"

_So close…_ "Fine," she conceded with a sigh. "For the sake of arguing – 'cause I enjoy arguing and you're obviously not letting it go – say the nub _does_ have 'feelings' for me…"

She sure was fond of the air quotes today… "_Okay_…"

"He still said he would pick Carly." It really wasn't any more complicated than that.

"That's not what he said, Sam." Ted hadn't believed it when she'd first recounted the meeting; it had taken the better part of a half-hour before he'd gotten her to admit the boy's _actual _words.

Sam shrugged, unconvinced. "Whatever; he said he didn't know _who _he'd choose." _Same diff._

He could see how it would be black and white to her but in reality it probably _wasn't_. "He's spent years believing he was in love with her and fighting with you – he's allowed to be confused…"

"And _I'm _allowed to not want to have to constantly worry what'll happen if she wants him back," Sam volleyed forcefully. She didn't think Carly _would_, especially not if they were together, but it wasn't really Carly's feelings that were the problem. "Even if she didn't I would always feel like the consolation prize, not knowing if he was with me because he wanted to be or because he couldn't have _her_." Swallowing the painful lump in her throat she challenged, "Is _that_ what you want for me?"

Ted hated that she was on the verge of tears when a minute before she'd been joking and relaxed; hated that it was his fault for pressing the issue and that she wasn't entirely wrong.

Sam took pity on him and changed the subject. "I'm thinking of L.A."

While he probably should have seen it coming Ted hadn't; hadn't _wanted_ to. "Sam, you can't run from your problems…"

The idea that she _would_ be running was what kept her from deciding. "I said I was _thinking_ about it; I'm just keeping my options open."

"I wasn't aware you considered leaving your best friends an option…" he admitted carefully. They were the only reason she hadn't moved long ago.

Sam ran a hand through her hair. "You knew I was planning on moving straight after graduation anyway…" She wouldn't have stuck around to watch them go off to college without her; she'd been left enough times to know it wasn't an experience she wanted to repeat.

Yes, but that had given Ted another year to convince her to work on getting into a decent school and a future that _didn't_ include wasting her potential; he couldn't do that with her in Los Angeles. "There is a rather large difference between a year from now and _now_, Sam."

Assuming an overly-cheerful smile she deflected, "Look at the bright side – maybe Carly'll be lonely and turn to him and they'll live happily ever after. Cut out the awkward part in the middle where I get my heart broken…"

Ted blew out a puff of frustrated air. "You don't know…"

Losing her temper Sam snapped, "And you don't know I _won't_!" Putting up a hand in implied apology she took a shaky breath and lowered her voice. "Look, I get that you want me to talk so I don't self-destruct or kill someone or some chiz, but you need to stop pushing me on this, okay? You're just making the heat and superficiality of L.A. look not so bad…"

It might have been framed as a joke but Ted knew it wasn't; that she was one good reason away from taking off. Leaning back in his seat to give her some space he advised, "You still need to talk to him, Sam. The only way things will be able to go back to normal is if he believes you actually _heard_ him rather than dismissed his feelings outright…"

She was _afraid_ to talk to him; afraid her resistance would crumble and she'd throw herself into the fire she'd been so carelessly skirting. "We're supposed to do 'Wake up Spencer' tonight and I don't know if I can. Which is completely _stupid_ 'cause it was my idea…"

That she'd confess her weakness made it all the more poignant. What she didn't seem to realize was that she was pushing _herself _harder than he was, though Ted supposed for her it was more a test; a chance to prove to herself that she _could_. He was worried what would happen if she failed.

The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, and Sam stood. "I have to get to class before I wear out Miss Briggs' good will again…" It was only partly an excuse to get away – the teacher hadn't yelled at her once since the thing with Trevor and it was a refreshing change.

Ted had notified Francine she would be late but the conversation had run its course. Taking an envelope from his drawer he held it out to her. Long ago Delson had started sending him money every month, well aware that if Pam got her hands on it Sam would never see it; when Ted had realized how rarely the woman was at home he'd taken to withdrawing a little more than had been deposited. Not much – Sam was as irresponsible with money as she was with her schoolwork – but enough that he could comfort himself she had food in the refrigerator.

Sam briefly considered telling him to keep it until Monday so she would have an excuse to steal the whipped cream and maybe, just maybe, end up in juvie for the night… "Thanks."

Pulling it away from her outstretched hand Ted raised an expectant eyebrow. "Promise me you won't use it on a train ticket." Knowing her he'd receive no more warning than an email moments before she boarded…

"Promise." If she _did_ decide to leave she'd max out her mom's credit cards first and that would be purchase _numero uno_. Hell, she might even spring for a plane ticket…

Ted saw the wheels turning, knew she'd conceded far too quickly, but relinquished his hold anyway and watched as she stuffed the money in her back pocket. "I'm serious, Samantha – I expect you at the very least to complete the year. And I believe your father would agree."

There was no need to invoke her father; Ted was the only person in Sam's life who had never let her down and she tried really hard (though she didn't always succeed) not to do it to him. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." Extending her hands she adopted a cheeky grin and a British accent to implore, "Please, sir, I want some more…"

"You'll have to stay for that," he retorted smoothly. How the girl could casually reference the SS and Oliver Twist (correctly, no less) yet did so poorly in her courses never ceased to amaze him. The things she could accomplish if only she applied herself…

Sam wouldn't point out that she'd still get the money if she left, it just wouldn't come in the form of a Sterling Savings envelope once a month. Instead she'd pretend her staying had everything to do with being greedy and nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that, now or a year from now, she didn't want to leave him at all; absolutely nothing to do with her knowing how much was _supposed_ to be in each envelope and how much there actually _was_ and that _that_, to her, was worth more than the money itself. "I guess I'll have to stay then…" she gave in with a shrug.

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, I know nothing really happened in this chapter but Sam needed to hear an unbiased take on everything. There was actually supposed to be a SamCarly conversation but when Sam and Ted get together they kind of develop a mind of their own and I just go with it because I love their relationship. Sue me ;)**


	17. Chapter 15

**No big author's note - just read and hopefully enjoy :)**

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><p>Freddie headed over to the Shay apartment early, thinking if he got there before Sam he'd have home-court advantage and maybe not be so uncomfortable. Knocking once, he entered without waiting for a response.<p>

Spencer looked up from his spot on the couch. "Hey, Freddo." Patting the cushion next to him he volunteered, "Carly went to meet Sam at the Groovy Smoothie; they should be back soon with beverages."

The information had Freddie wanting to turn around and walk back out but he refrained, instead sitting down and offering up a quiet "okay" because he couldn't think of anything else to say.

When the commercial break came on Spencer muted the volume and turned to Freddie. "Carly told me what happened – you sure you're up for this?" If they really had been 'dating' for a while he would understand if the boy wasn't.

"Honestly?" Freddie laid his head on the back of the couch and closed his eyes. "I don't remember it being this bad." Even the bacon incident had been more disappointment than anything. This just _hurt._

Spencer patted the younger man's leg sympathetically. "Freddie, as a wise man once said: time wounds all heals. I'm guessing you're getting a double dose of heartache…" Being rejected twice, by best friends no less, had to take its toll.

Opening his eyes Freddie gave him an amused glance. "You've been watching Farscape again, haven't you?"

"Uh-huh." It wasn't on the Galaxy Wars level of obsession but it was pretty darn close; he knew most of the movie by heart.

If Freddie had to pick an adjective for John Crichton 'wise' wouldn't be it, and he knew Spencer hadn't watched it for _that_ character anyway. "'Cause Claudia Black is hot?"

"'Cause I needed _something_ to do while hiding in my room from Carly…" And all to keep a secret he apparently hadn't even known the half of…

Freddie raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

"And 'cause Claudia Black is hot," Spencer finally admitted under the scrutiny. "The black leather. Those eyes. And her_ accent_: like a Siren's song… If she did the Criminal Code on tape I would have been a lawyer years ago…" He went off into his own little world, imagining just that.

After a minute of silence Freddie sighed, "Aeryn always reminded me of Sam…" A lot of things made him think of Sam. It was kinda pathetic.

Spencer reluctantly put his fantasy on hold to nod. "I can see that." All ass-kicking and condescending and undeniably alluring. Only with more self-control and less wit.

"I only got her to watch the series with me by promising she'd love Aeryn, they're so alike," Freddie shared, flipping a pillow in the air haphazardly. "Of course she declared John a ginormous nub and said Aeryn would've saved herself a lot of grief if she'd just vented him from the ship right at the beginning…"

It definitely sounded like Sam, and if Spencer was remembering right Aeryn _had_ threatened to vent and/or abandon John planetside more than once. "With all the grief Sam gives _you_ I'd say you're just as much John," he laughed. "Except, you know, Aeryn loved John. Even though he was an inferior human…"

The pillow rolled onto the floor, forgotten, while Freddie gave Spencer a look that said '_seriously?_'

"Um…" Spencer picked up the pillow and gently placed it in Freddie's lap, patting it before leaning away. "At least Sam thinks you're an inferior human…" It was a start…

Freddie used the returned pillow to smack Spencer, groaning, "Remind me why I keep talking to you…"

"Sorry – you know how my foot likes to live in my mouth." He was pretty sure there was a piece of chicken from yesterday's supper living in there, too; he could still taste the lemon.

"It's okay." Freddie couldn't blame him for speaking the truth. He wished he _wouldn't_, but he couldn't blame him for it. "You're right, anyway – she gave up after season two 'cause they'd 'assassinated' Aeryn's character by having her fall in love with, then die for, the 'undeserving nub.'" He'd tried to tell her that Aeryn wasn't really dead but she'd said Aeryn was dead _to her_; that if she wanted to see a fascinating bad girl lose all her coolness over some useless guy she'd watch a chick flick.

Spencer's mouth dropped open. "She hasn't seen Peacekeeper Wars?" Who started watching a series but didn't finish it? That was like reading the first half of a book then using it for kindling…

"Are you kidding?" Freddie scoffed. "If she knew Aeryn married him _and_ they had a kid her head would explode." And she might have killed _him_ for subjecting her to it in the first place.

"I would _so _pay to see that." There'd been a couple of times it had seemed unavoidable but, alas, it hadn't happened. Spencer imagined when it did it would be _spectacular_.

"I'd pay for some Laka extract…" Freddie supplied, only half-kidding.

Considering it was a fictional drug made from a fictional critter on a fictional (now defunct) television show it really wasn't an option. "You'd lose your feelings for everything, not just Sam," Spencer pointed out. "Would you really do it if you could?"

"I don't know." He'd thought John had taken the coward's way out by taking the Laka, choosing to feel nothing rather than feel the pain of not being able to be with Aeryn, but now Freddie understood better. "You know what I do know?"

"What?" Spencer asked, even though he had a feeling he might regret it.

"That guy that said 'It's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all'?" At Spencer's nod Freddie declared sagely, "He's a filthy liar…"

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><p>By the time they turned back to the TV the show on underwater treasure hunts was over and a documentary on the Titanic had begun. Freddie tensed at every sound in the hallway (wondering how the hell he was going to make it through the night, 'Wake up Spencer,' especially) for a good half-hour before the door finally opened and the girls sauntered in.<p>

In case they somehow missed it Carly announced, "We're home!"

"And we come bearing cupcakes!" Sam added, juggling two smoothies and the box from Jake's. She acknowledged the boys with a nod. "Sixpence, Frederly."

Freddie muttered "hi" without taking his eyes from the screen.

"Hey, Girly-Qs!" Spencer got up to take the box from Sam so he could peek inside.

"We're also bearing smoothies…" Carly pointed out, giving Freddie his.

Pushing Spencer's cup into his hand Sam put hers on the table so she could open her backpack. "Cupcakes trump smoothies. No contest."

Spencer nodded his agreement while trying to balance everything so he could snag a cupcake from the box. He froze when Sam gave him 'the look.'

"Well, then maybe you should have led with the smoothies…" Carly suggested dryly, walking back to the door to hang up her jacket.

Sam rolled her eyes at her best friend's petulant tone. "Fine… Carly brought _boring_ smoothies, Mama brought _yummy_ cupcakes. _Happy_?"

"Don't be mean," Carly pouted. Maybe movie night wasn't such a good idea, after all…

She was lucky Sam was being as _nice_ as she was. Not only had Carly insisted on meeting her at the Groovy Smoothie to help her (not like they had four-cup trays or anything), she'd _insisted_ they stay there for a bit to talk (completely ignoring Sam's protests that she didn't _want _to talk), at which point she'd _insisted_ on knowing everything that had happened with Freddie (asking questions that had been met with increasing agitation but no answers). Sam had finally ended the inquisition by _informing_ Carly that she was leaving and the brunette was welcome to join her, or not. The drive home had been silently tense. "Anyway…" Pulling the can of whipped cream from her bag Sam shared shamelessly, "I may have de-creamed the cupcakes on my way to get the smoothies…"

"Cupcake sucker," Carly huffed under her breath. To say she was frustrated was an understatement. She'd tried to suss out what was really going on but all she'd gotten was the usual stone-walling. And she hated that there was more to the story than either of her friends were telling her.

Freddie was _not_ happy to see the can; he'd been hoping Sam would forget and they'd have to postpone 'Wake up Spencer.' Again. Preferably indefinitely. He _was _impressed with the excuse she'd come up with to cover their tracks; completely believable and yet totally sneaky. He had to admit, he much preferred her little scams when he was in on them.

Avoiding Freddie's eyes Sam took the box back from Spencer and went to put everything in the refrigerator. She was surprised when she closed the door and turned around to find the elder Shay standing behind her. Like _right _behind her. So close she almost bumped into his chest. "What up, Stranger Danger?" she teased, head tilted inquisitively. She couldn't help taking a quick glance to find Freddie watching them intently.

Carly saw Freddie's hand clench around his smoothie; apparently there was something going on _there_, too. "Too close, Spencer…"

Ignoring his sister he pulled a twenty from his jeans and held it out to Sam without a word.

Before he could retract it Sam plucked the money from his hand and stuffed it in her pocket. "What's this for?"

Spencer took a deep breath before exhaling in an excited rush, "Aeryn marries John, they have a son, and D'Argo _dies_!" He grinned in anticipation of her reaction.

Sam cocked an eyebrow. "Uh… good for them?" It took all her self-control not to burst out laughing at his crushed expression, and she continued his torture with an indifferently shrugged, "Well, except for D'Artagnan, I guess…"

"Sam!" Freddie yelped. Spencer was going to think _he _was a filthy liar…

_Ugh_. Rolling her eyes Sam muttered, "And they named him D'Argo Sun-Crichton. What's your point?" Why was he testing her knowledge of Farscape, anyway?

Carly's curiosity got the better of her and she wandered up to them. "What the heck are you guys talking about?"

"You said she didn't know!" Spencer felt like he'd been promised Chinese fireworks and had gotten a wickless candle instead.

Forgetting to keep his distance Freddie got up and joined them, looking expectantly at Sam. He was just as confused as Spencer; she hadn't watched it with him…

"It's just nub stuff," Sam told Carly. Then realized she'd admitted to being involved in 'nub stuff' and defended, "I was curious so I looked it up." She may have also borrowed the remaining seasons from Freddie without telling him.

"You owe me twenty bucks," Spencer informed Freddie with a pout; he knew better than to ask Sam for his money back.

Freddie wasn't listening – he was too busy trying to figure out if she could have _watched_ the rest of the series, not just Zaplooked the way it ended. Last Halloween they'd been discussing costumes when he'd suggested, only half-joking, that she go as Aeryn; she'd responded, in her best haughty Aeryn impression, with 'In your _dreams_, Brichton.' Which his subconscious had quickly (and quite vividly) taken as permission, judging by the intensely satisfying (and unfortunately messy) night he'd had…

Sam could see the wheels turning in his head and had a pretty good idea where they were leading him. She'd really rather he not get there. "You got something to say there, Fredlumps?" She should have just kept playing dumb and let him take the fall with Spencer…

"No," Freddie denied automatically. Except he did. She'd shown up at Carly's party in hippie garb, hair straightened and wearing a blue and purple top that flared at the elbows with matching bell-bottomed pants. He'd told himself it was just a coincidence – she hadn't even seen the episode where Aeryn had worn a similar outfit – but now he wasn't so sure. Meeting her eyes he defiantly changed his answer to _"Yes."_

_Uh-oh._ "No, he doesn't!" Carly went to step between them but stopped when Freddie held out a hand. Sighing, she stood back while the blonde's face darkened.

"Oh, really?" Sam's tone and eyebrow were mocking. "Let's hear it then, Benson."

"Freddie, please don't…" Until she could figure out how to fix this (which would be a lot easier if she knew exactly what _this_ was) Carly really didn't need him doing more damage.

Spencer muzzled his sister with a hand over her mouth. Maybe he'd be getting his fireworks, after all…

Steeling his determination Freddie went to speak, then realized he didn't really want an audience, and that Sam probably wouldn't appreciate having one, either. "Not here." Taking her arm he pulled her towards the door.

"_Freddie_…" She knew he had no more boundaries when they were alone; at least with the Shays around she could count on him censoring himself.

Freddie ignored Spencer's disappointed whining and Carly's concerned hemming to drag the struggling blonde into the hall where he hesitated for a second because his mom was at home. He continued to the fire escape.

Sam could easily have broken his grip but his hand had slipped down to hold hers and she found herself reluctant to lose contact. As soon as they were on the balcony she shook free to put her hands on her hips. "_What_?"

Like she didn't already know… "Halloween – you did that on purpose…" He'd intended it to be a statement but it came out as more of a question.

"I did," Sam shrugged. She'd decided to leave it up to the fates by raiding her mom's closet for a costume, certain she was safe 'cause she'd already 'accidentally' destroyed Pam's leather outfit; unfortunately she'd forgotten her mom's short-lived Disco infatuation (short-lived infatuation with the disco _instructor_, rather). Accepting the huge 'screw you' from the universe she'd worn the outfit (not before washing it repeatedly with hospital-grade detergent) but had drawn the line at tying the top below her breasts and wearing a black wig. "You could have asked me that inside, you know."

No, because he wasn't done. Moving to stand right in front of her he prodded, "_Why_?"

"'Cause it's warmer." At least going by the shiver that had just run through her body…

When she went to head back in Freddie grabbed her arm and held her there, searching her eyes. "Why'd you do it, Sam?"

His voice had gone all deep and growly, and this time she couldn't blame the weather for the breath that was caught in her throat. "You're fun to mess with…" That night she'd repeatedly caught him staring at her, the unspoken question in his eyes; it had been so satisfying she'd actually sent a silent apology out to the universe for doubting it. Back in the now she pinched his cheek and condescended through pursed lips, "You were so confuzzled it was almost cute – like a puppy chasing its own tail."

"You went to all that trouble _only_ to mess with me?" She'd definitely succeeded, but he was hoping there was another reason.

She could tell by his tone that he wasn't buying it. She needed him to be buying it. "You're surprised? My own amusement is pretty much the _only_ thing I go to any trouble for…"

And that was _not_ the answer he'd been looking for. Not that he'd expected it to be that easy… "Why'd you really stop watching the show, Sam?"

"I told you why." Except she didn't need a chick flick to see nub-induced suckage, just a mirror; that she had watched the science fiction/fantasy dren to begin with was proof enough of that.

Freddie raised an eyebrow, part skeptical part hurt. "Then why'd you watch it without me?"

"It's not about you," she told him curtly. As much as Sam and Aeryn were alike, right down to their shared hatred for weakness and scorn for lesser beings (and apparent weakness _for_ lesser beings), Sam and Freddie were no Aeryn and John. For one thing John had loved Aeryn pretty much from word go, her training as the perfect emotionless soldier the only thing keeping them apart. And where John'd had to take drugs to _not _love Aeryn, Sam'd had to drug Freddie (albeit unintentionally, with pheromones) just to get him _to _love her. No – the only reason she'd watched the rest of the series was because she'd wanted to see with her own eyes how it ended. "I kept waiting for Aeryn to come to her senses but apparently your whole personality is an acceptable sacrifice when you get a husband and kid out of the deal…"

It had to be at least partially _about_ him otherwise she would have finished watching it _with_ him. And the fact that she was taking the show so personally – that she identified with Aeryn more than she wanted to let on – gave Freddie some hope. "For what it's worth, 'Aeryn' may have lost some of her roughness but she didn't lose her edge; she went from being a one-dimensional bad guy to a complicated and layered _bad-ass_." Tugging her into him he breathed, "She's _much_ cooler now, even if she still likes to pretend she's above everything…"

Sam wasn't comfortable with how close he was, literally _or_ figuratively, but she wouldn't let _him_ know that. Cocking an insulted eyebrow she argued, "When was I ever one-dimensional?" She'd been called a lot of things before but that one was new.

At least she was acknowledging the parallel, even if she _was_ choosing to focus on the wrong thing… "_And _she's not the only one who changed: John became a fighter to keep up with her and everything they went through; he learned how to stand up _to_ her and _for_ her and he got himself in hot water on more than one occasion trying to live up to her standards." Okay, so the comparison got a little strained there but the conclusion was the same: "They started off opposites and ended up meeting somewhere in the middle…"

Backing out of his space Sam translated, "So basically they _both_ had to change who they were to be happy… That's an _awesome_ message for our impressionable youth…"

Freddie rolled his eyes at her. "You're missing the point, Sam." _Intentionally_.

"I know what point you _think _you're making, Freddie, and you're wrong." He may see them as John and Aeryn revisited but she was under no such illusion. Unless she'd missed the version where John had relentlessly pursued Zhaan during the years it took them to make their way to the middle…

Shaking his head he announced simply, "I don't think I am." Of course that would mean she'd had feelings for him since last year, which he was having trouble reconciling, but he had to go with his gut instinct. He could logic it out later.

_Now_ he decided to be stubborn? She preferred it when he was easily led, at least by her… "Listen to me…" Deadly serious she promised, "I didn't reject you to save face 'cause I fell for a nub, and I'm not punishing you for turning me into a love-struck loser or whatever it is you're telling yourself…"

The absolute conviction had Freddie's confidence wavering, and not for the first time he wished he had a Sam - Unadulterated Truth dictionary. "Maybe that's true," he allowed quietly, "but you can't convince me you don't feel anything for me."

_Jesus H…_ She was _sure_ she'd had him, had seen the defeat written on his face, and his dogged persistence was as annoyingly endearing as it was crazy frustrating. Ignoring the flutter in her stomach she sighed, "You said you love me, Freddie – if I felt the same why wouldn't I just say it? Why would I be trying so hard to get you to let it go?" If she kept him concentrated on the forest hopefully he wouldn't see the trees…

Freddie didn't _know_ why – there were contradictions everywhere and nothing made sense. Running a frustrated hand through his hair he suggested, "I don't know – 'cause you like making my life miserable?"

"You're absolutely right," Sam agreed, voice dripping with sarcasm even while she was secretly relieved. "You know what else is fun? The lectures I keep getting from Carly, the kicked puppy looks I keep getting from you, and the hell I keep giving myself for starting this chiz to begin with." He may own her at fencing but there was no way he was going to win _this_ game, where the best offense was keeping _him_ on the defensive.

Why was he always a puppy? She didn't even really _like_ dogs… "Sam, I'm not trying to…"

She cupped a hand over his mouth and softened her tone. "Look, you're taking these random things and twisting them so they mean what you want them to." She'd fallen into the same trap herself, seeing hope where there was none, only to be disappointed time and again. Like when he'd brought her bacon before that dance then turned around and made it clear it was Carly he'd wanted to ask him. She'd known better than to think it meant something, yet for a split-second she'd been fooled. She couldn't afford to be a fool now. "But it's not _real_, Freddie, and you're not doing either of us any favors by deluding yourself. You need to accept that this just isn't what you think it is…"

Before he could lose his nerve Freddie eased her hand away, gaze still locked onto hers, to place a feather-light kiss in her palm. And those little things she _couldn't_ control – her small hitch of breath, the dilating of her pupils – told him he _wasn't_ delusional. "I don't accept it, Sam," he swore, moving their joined hands to his chest. "I _won't_."

And just like that Sam was caught right where she hadn't wanted to be – lost in his eyes and about to throw herself into the fire…

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><p><strong>Okay - so I know none of you have ever even heard of Farscape but it's one of <em>my<em> favorite shows and totally something I think the boys would be into. And the similarities were just too much for me to pass up. Besides, it caught Freddie a clue so you can't be mad at me for it ;)**

**BTW, I wouldn't suggest the series for children - it's sometimes quite dark and deals with some mature subject matter.**


	18. Chapter 16

**So sorry for the delay, guys - real life has been kicking my butt lately. Hopefully it won't continue to do so and the next update will be within a reasonable amount of time...**

**Thanks to everyone who reads and reviews and has stuck with story through however many chapters now. I know it's frustrating to read 'in progress' stories where you don't know when the next update will be. I can promise that, while some updates take longer than others, I will always update and I will finish this story; I've put too much work into it not to lol**

**Enjoy :)**

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><p>Freddie held his breath, certain Sam could hear his heart pounding in the silence as clearly as she could <em>feel<em> it through the thin fabric of his shirt. It was like she was waiting to see what he would do next, just steadily holding his gaze, and he obliged by wrapping his other arm around her waist and easing her into him. "_Sam_…"

That needy puff of air decimated what little self-control Sam had left. When he failed to follow through she impatiently brought her free hand to the back of his neck and _tugged_, her eyes daring him to deny her…

If there had been any rational thoughts left in Freddie's head resisting would _not _have been one of them, the not-so-subtle nudge all the incentive he needed to quickly close the remaining distance.

"Fredward Benson!"

He froze, lips a mere inch from Sam's, his glance darting to where his (very angry) mother had appeared in the bright hallway. "Mom!" Could her timing _be _any worse?

Sam had never been so happy to see Marissa in her life, the woman's arrival a much needed bucket of ice water thrown in her face.

"Don't 'mom' me," Marissa hissed, hands on her hips. "Get your butt home right this instant, young man!"

"Uh, I'm kind of in the middle of something here…" If he let Sam get away now Freddie could pretty much kiss any progress they'd made goodbye; his mother's 'you're in serious trouble' tone, intimidating as it was, was the lesser of two evils.

The boy obviously didn't know how close he was to being throttled. Marissa pointed a dangerous finger towards the apartment. "It wasn't a _request_."

Sam would have told her to chill the frell out if it weren't better for her that she _didn't_. "Better do as mommy says…" she needled, pushing Freddie towards the window.

Marissa grabbed her son's arm and pulled him over the ledge. "You too, _harlot_."

_Wow_ – 'one-dimensional' and 'harlot' in the span of a half-hour; if Sam weren't so curious as to why they'd been tracked down in the first place (not that she minded in the least) she might have taken the time to be offended…

"Don't you think you're overreacting just a bit?" Freddie objected as his mom dragged him down the hall. He'd expected her to be surprised and majorly annoyed but the name-calling and nails digging into his bicep seemed a little excessive.

_Overreacting? _When they reached the apartment Marissa thrust him at the TV and glared at Sam as she entered behind them. "You look at _that_ and tell me I'm overreacting…"

The image on the screen – of him and Sam from the Saturday before, in a position his mother most definitely did _not_ approve of – had Freddie's mouth falling open and his feet taking an involuntary step towards the door. "You record the _hallway_?" 'Crap' didn't quite describe the situation but he was afraid to even _think_ something stronger lest she somehow hear it_._

Sam had to bury the instinct to take flight, not from Marissa's considerable condemnation but from the physical evidence of the one thing she was trying so hard (and failing so spectacularly) to forget. Once the initial nausea passed her snark (thankfully) kicked in. "Lady, I knew you were coo coo for cocoa puffs but that right there is downright _certifiable_…"

"I like to know what kinds of hoodlums are roaming our building!" Marissa defended hotly. With the widespread corruption of modern society she'd be stupid _not _to…

Freddie was torn between wanting to protect Sam from his mother's (not unreasonable) wrath and wanting to hide behind her _for _protection. He settled for standing beside her to present a united front. And to avoid looking like a giant wuss who was scared of his mommy…

"Seriously? Your first day off in more than a week and this is how you spend it?" Clicking her tongue in mock sympathy Sam suggested, "You _really_ need some new hobbies…"

Marissa returned the jab with one of her own. "I expect _you _to be one of the hoodlums, but _my_ _son_? _With _you?" Gesturing madly at the screen she bit off, "Doing _that_?"

Years from now Freddie might think back on this exchange and laugh but right now his mother looked like she was about to explode. "_Sam_…" She was _not _helping.

Hushing him with a wave of her hand Sam baited, "Do you record his bedroom, too? 'Cause _that_ would be the icky icing on the already kooky crazy-cake…" It was done as much to draw Marissa's ire as to find out what _other_ evidence there was.

That thought hadn't even occurred to Freddie, and he was equal parts embarrassed and horrified by the possibility. "Mom, _please_ tell me you don't have a camera in my room…" That was just… there were no words.

"Heavens, no!" Marissa gave them a look of shock and utter revulsion, thrown by the accusation. "There are some things a mother does _not_ need to know about her son…" Though there were plenty of parents online that considered it completely normal… _Loons_.

Freddie exhaled in relief; the hallway was tame compared to what went on in his room. And not only with Sam…

"Oh, no," Marissa warned, seeing the delinquent's self-satisfied nod. "Don't think you can turn this around on me… Which one of you would like to tell me what happened _after _that?"

Sam would have remarked on the perversion of wanting all the juicy details but was totally over the conversation now that she knew what she was dealing with. "Relax, _mom_," she advised, tone bored, "I tried to seduce your perfect son and he rejected me; when I left he was still pure as the driven snow."

That wasn't exactly how it had gone down but Freddie knew pointing out that he _hadn't _rejected her wouldn't help his case any. Save their hides first, correct the obstinate blonde later… "She didn't stay long; you can check the tape…"

Knowing what _else _was on the tape Sam panicked and tossed out a faux-casual, "What he's done _since_ _then_ you'll have to ask him…"

Freddie turned to her, dumbfounded. That didn't make sense on _any_ level, unless she thought he was seeing someone behind her back. "Sam, there's no one else…"

Marissa couldn't avoid the nagging suspicion anymore. "Are you two…" Pausing to cringe she finished quietly, "…_dating_?"

"Yes," Freddie confirmed without hesitation.

Sam shot him an unimpressed look. "_No._ But you realize we're seventeen, right? Sooner or later your precious baby boy is gonna do a lot more than what's on that tape…"

Banishing that unpleasant reality to the recesses of her mind Marissa wondered, "Then how do you explain what I came upon earlier?" And why was she denying it?

"Youthful indulgence?" Sam offered with an affected shrug.

While Freddie wasn't surprised she was contradicting him about the dating (can't blame a guy for trying) she _knew_ it was more than that. To his mother he weakly supplied, "It's complicated…"

"It's _not _complicated," Sam tersely corrected. "And you can rest easy 'cause it won't be happening again." She had no intention of ever _letting_ it happen again, if only she could figure out how to avoid the temptation…

"_Sam_…" How could she _still_ be so stubborn?

Marissa took a minute to study them, more confused than when they'd started. "Freddie, go to your room."

Freddie blinked at her. "Huh?"

"We'll discuss _this_," Marissa told him with a dismissive wave at the TV, "and your punishment later. Right now I want to talk to Sam."

_Joy._

"Mom, _no._" He didn't need her giving Sam _another_ reason to fight him; it was an uphill battle as it was…

Like he had a choice in the matter… He may have been bordering on adulthood but he was still _her_ son living under _her_ roof. "Go. _Now_."

Freddie knew better than to continue arguing so he went, but not before promising Sam, "We're not done."

_Double joy. _She watched him trudge off, thinking how much simpler her life would be if she could get him to obey _her _like that. "I just remembered…" she breathed, turning back to the older woman. "I don't have to stay here for this…" _You have no power over me…_

The blonde was already halfway to the door by the time Marissa raised an eyebrow. "_Sam_…"

_Ugh._ Sam loathed that tone – a commanding blend of warning and admonishment – and the frequency with which she got it from both Marissa and Ted. As far as she could tell it was taught to parents purely as a torture device…

Taking the girl's pause for tacit submission Marissa sat on the couch. "Are you going to tell me what's really going on?" What little she'd seen of her son lately he'd been noticeably upset but wouldn't tell her why; she never would have guessed it was because _Sam_ was rejecting him.

Sam turned but didn't walk back, hoping Marissa would get the message to drop it. "I told you."

"_No_," Marissa countered, motioning to the cushion beside her. "You told me what you would say with Freddie around…"

_Or not._ Moving to the couch Sam grudgingly took the seat. "You know he's listening at his door, right?" She didn't want to have this conversation to begin with, much less where he could hear it.

Marissa understood the 'question' for what it was. "He can't hear anything, Sam."

Yeah – Sam wasn't about to take her word for it. "How can you be so sure?"

"I tested it." At the blonde's skeptical scoff Marissa elaborated, "There are some things a son doesn't need to know about his mother…"

Okay, _ew._ Whatever she was referring to Sam was absolutely certain she didn't want details; bad enough she had to know all about her _own_ mom's proclivities… "Look – I don't want him chasing after me any more than you do; just ground him for a while and give me a chance to come up with a plan." _Another _plan. That would hopefully be more successful than the first and _didn't_ require moving to L.A…

The resignation in her voice had Marissa's brow furrowing. "This is where you lose me; that you're _making_ him chase you…"

So much for the unspoken agreement to never _ever _speak of it… Sam kept an ear trained on Freddie's door for any sign of it opening. "What do you care? I would think you'd be glad I'm staying sane during your son's bout of temporary insanity…" After a beat she added wryly, "He gets that from you, by the way."

Marissa ignored the half-hearted dig. "I'm just trying to understand how it went from him rejecting you to you rejecting him." Assuming they were telling the truth about what had (not) happened…

"It's how we keep things interesting," Sam dismissed facetiously, "Whoever wins the morning coin toss gets to play hard-to-get for the day…"

"_Sam_…" For the girl's sake (and her own comfort) Marissa would like to be able to just let it go but _couldn't_; not when it involved her son.

_Ugh. _"It was an accident, okay?" Letting her head fall back against the couch Sam crooked a disillusioned finger at the screen. "_That _was the original plan…"

"Plan to _what_?" What on earth could _that_ accomplish? Unless she'd been trying to trap him with a pregnancy…

"Get over him," Sam admitted with a self-loathing sigh. "That stupid necklace… Except somehow he ended up with 'feelings' for me other than the happy tingly ones he was supposed to have." The instantaneous grimace on the other woman's face (unintentional as it had been) was satisfying compensation for the earlier overshare.

That was an image Marissa could have done without. Tone skeptical she summarized, "You thought… doing _that_… would make you _not_ have feelings for him?" Sam wasn't always the most logical person but she must have seen the flaws in _that_ plan.

Sam shrugged. "Usually works for my mom…" She always lost interest not long after, anyway.

Marissa felt for the girl; she really did. It couldn't be easy with Pam for a role model. "It doesn't work that way for normal people, Sam…" That woman was a special case all on her own.

It was the pot calling the kettle black – Marissa calling Pam abnormal – but Sam didn't want to start a debate by mentioning it. "Yeah, _thanks_ – where were you two weeks ago?" Could have saved them all some grief… "Anyway, he refused to go through with it because I wouldn't promise not to shut him out again. And here we are…"

The relief that they _hadn't _done it was tempered by the knowledge that they _would have_ if Sam weren't so guarded. "Not that I condone your little plan but why didn't you? I thought that's what you wanted?" As hard as Marissa tried to understand the girl most of the time it was like they lived on two different planets.

It struck Sam as funny, in all definitions of the word, that the only other person to know the _whole_ story was _his_ mom. "You never said anything because you didn't want him with me – and judging by your reaction that hasn't changed – so what does it matter why I didn't?" What was that saying about looking a gift horse in the mouth?

Marissa sighed into the awkward silence. It wasn't the _only _reason she'd never said anything but she couldn't deny it was _a _reason. The other being that she'd known how painful it was for Sam, having to watch Freddie fall all over Carly, _without_ the additional embarrassment of them knowing. "You don't believe him…" she realized aloud.

"Nope," Sam proclaimed with a pop of her lips. "So I told him I don't feel the same but he's not buying it and my willpower is running on empty…" How could it _not_ when he kept doing stupid sweet nub chiz like bringing her lunch even when they were fighting? Maybe Marissa knowing was a blessing in disguise; at least now she had an ally. "If you can pull some Maternal Mind-Trick and get him to see it's just hormones then we all win…"

That Sam just assumed she'd do whatever she could to keep them apart made Marissa's chest clench with something akin to guilt. "Sam, it's not that I don't like you…"

"You just don't like me for _him_," Sam provided with forced levity. "Hey – I get it; if he was my son I wouldn't want him with me either." Standing up she waved a final hand at the screen. "Do us both a favor and don't let him see the rest of that? I made kind of a 'dramatic' exit that won't do much to convince him I don't care…"

Marissa had no idea how she'd gone from wanting to severely punish them both to feeling like _she'd_ done something wrong. "Sam…"

Swallowing the lump in her throat Sam cut her off with a sarcastic, "Loved this thoroughly uncomfortable chat; we'll have to _not _do it again sometime…" Without giving the woman a chance to respond she left, pausing a second in the hallway (with her back to the camera) to compose herself, before sauntering into the Shay apartment.

Carly jumped up to meet her. "What happened?" And where was Freddie?

"Movie night's cancelled," Sam announced with a casual lift of her shoulders.

"Sam, tell me you didn't kill him…" Obviously Carly knew she wouldn't _literally_ kill him…

"I managed to refrain, though he probably won't be so lucky with his mom." Taking a breath Sam shared, "Turns out I'm not really her idea of girlfriend material. The only thing that might save him is that I'm not looking to fit the pattern…"

Spencer followed the conversation from his spot on the couch. "How'd she find out?" When his sister turned to him accusingly he defended, "I didn't tell her…" He'd been avoiding her _specifically_ because if she sensed weakness she'd pounce and he'd sing like the canary caught by the cat.

Sam took pity on him. "How else? She's crazy." She wouldn't get into the specifics, though it did make her wonder how many 'interesting' situations Marissa had seen Spencer in… "By the time she's done with her lecture he'll probably wish I _had _killed him."

"I might have told her where I thought you guys were," Carly confessed sheepishly. "She came in here like a mad woman looking for you and…"

"Don't feel bad," Sam soothed with a pat to her arm. "She would have found him eventually anyway." Not necessarily in the _position_ she had but the only way her timing could have been better for Sam was if she'd confronted them _before _he'd had a chance to drag her to the fire escape.

"We can still have movie night…" Spencer pointed out. He would probably get stuck watching a chick flick but it was better than doing nothing. And if Freddie was MIA at least he didn't have to worry about 'Wake up Spencer…'

Sam shook her head. "Not me. I'm gonna go home and thank God my mother's the _absentee_ kind of crazy…" And come up with a new strategy before years of deliberate effort went up in smoke…

"Nuh-uh." Carly denied with a shake of _her_ head. "Not until you tell me what you were doing watching 'nub stuff' in the first place." The drama with Mrs. Benson may have distracted her but it couldn't make her forget something as big as _that_.

Just _more_ proof that Sam should have kept playing dumb. "Sometimes I let him pick what we watched; it was easier than listening to him whine."

Carly blinked at her. "Since when do you guys watch _anything _alone?" Much less enough times for there to be a 'sometimes'?

Either Sam was losing her touch or the day had finally broken her… "What do you think we do when you guys take off to Yuckima? Go on standby 'cause you're not around?" She imitated a robot powering down to make Carly see how silly she was being. Nope – _not broken_.

Well, _no_, but Carly hadn't known they spent it all _together_. "How did this happen?"

"One weekend I forgot you were going or I wasn't listening or something and I was too lazy to go back home so I let myself in. He thought I was a robber, 'cause you know, robbers _usually_ make sure the TV works before stealing it…" The words were dipped in scorn and rolled in crumbs of derision. "After I beat him with his own bat I let him stay."

Carly groaned. "I _meant_ when did it happen that I became odd man out?" She used to be the glue and now she felt like she was just _there_…

"It's not like we were having deep, meaningful conversations," Sam scoffed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "We raided your fridge and watched crappy TV…"

"Wait… do you break in here _every _time we go away?" Spencer thought that was a _much_ better explanation for the missing food than uninvited Elven house sitters…

'Break in' was such a harsh term. _Accurate_, but still harsh. "Of course not…" she placated, then waited for his relieved nod to qualify, "Only when Marissa's home." It didn't do much to allay suspicion but it was worth it just for the betrayed look on his face. She was taking her amusement where she could get it…

She could have been exaggerating for comedic effect but that didn't change what it _meant_. "How come you never said anything?" Carly demanded.

It wasn't like the brunette normally _asked_ how their weekend had been; their reunions usually involved discussing how boring Yakima was. Considering absolutely nothing of interest happened there she sure found a lot to talk about… "I can't speak for the boy but _I _knew you'd make a big deal out of it…" And in five, four, three, two…

_Duh!_ Carly counted the reasons off on her fingers: "You spend time with. _Not _for the show. Willingly. _Repeatedly_!" Out of digits on that hand she threw them both up into the air for extra emphasis. "_And_ you kept it from me!" From where she was standing that made it a _huge_ deal. "Why won't you just admit you like him?"

Sticking her suddenly sweaty palms in her back pockets Sam countered huffily, "Because I know what your definition of 'like' is!" She was navigating dangerous waters – Carly wouldn't be as easy to mislead as Freddie because she had nothing to lose – but that didn't mean she was going to give up and let herself be dragged under… "Now, if you meant it how my mom 'likes' bathing or Spencer 'likes' sleeping with clothes on…"

"Hey!" It wasn't _his_ fault – one time he'd run out of clean laundry and there was just no going back from that kind of freedom… "I can do what I want in the privacy of my own room, thank you very much. Just like you can _not_ come in!"

"I wasn't complaining, Spence," Sam told him with a saucy wink, "but if you think a locked door and bare flesh are going to be a deterrent you obviously haven't _met_ me…" They really wouldn't – it was Freddie that made her wait outside while he ensured Spencer was 'decent.'

Carly looked between them, wondering if maybe her best friend had a thing for her _brother_ and that's what Freddie's smoothie squeezing incident had been about. _No_… Odds were Sam was just trying to muddy the waters and it wasn't going to work. "Spencer, go to your room."

Spencer whipped around to her. "What? _No_!" Talk of his wardrobe habits aside it had just been getting _good_…

"_Spencer_!" She was _not_ kidding around.

"Aww…" Throwing his sister an angry pout he stomped his way down the hall. If he weren't planning on leaving the door open to eavesdrop he would have slammed it for good measure.

Once he was gone Carly found her way back to where the blonde had purposely sidetracked them. "It's not a difficult question, Sam; the definition of 'like' is pretty universal…"

_Dammit._ "So is the definition of 'goodbye.'" Putting on her jacket Sam patronized, "And I'm taking my cupcakes with me because _clearly_ you're already high and don't need any more sugar…"

_Seriously?_ They were in the middle of a conversation and she was just going to walk away? Taking a breath Carly warned, "If you leave now I'll know you have feelings for him…"

Sam raised a criticizing eyebrow. "So if I float I'm a witch and you'll burn me at the stake and if I drown I'm _not_ a witch but I'm dead anyway…" Yeah, those were some _awesome_ options…

"Huh?" She was _being_ a witch but Carly didn't know what that had to do with anything.

Heaving a put-upon sigh Sam translated, "If I leave you'll think it's because I have feelings for him and if I _stay_ you'll think it's because I'm worried if I leave you'll think I have feelings for him."

Carly had _no idea_ what she'd just said. "Can we remember I've known you for ten years?" she huffed. "I can tell you're hiding something from me – you've been acting strange ever since your birthday!"

She'd been hiding something from her _for_ years so Sam wouldn't beat herself up over Carly finally noticing _something_. Especially not when she had a rational justification for it. "You know I have a love/hate relationship with my birthday: I love getting presents but I hate the whole 'you're a year older and what do you have to show for it?' aspect."

Something clicked in Carly's brain. "That's it!"

"What's it?" Apparently Sam had been hasty in calling it 'clear'…

Carly didn't answer, just started tugging at her best friend's collars.

It dawned on Sam what the brunette was looking for and she was able to breathe again. "If you're going to bite me at least make sure it's a good one…"

If she weren't so sure Sam would enjoy it she _would_ _have_ just to vent some frustrations… "Where is it?"

"Where's what?" Sam feigned ignorance, allowing her best friend to basically pat her down.

"'_Where's what?_'" Carly mocked. Like she didn't know… "The _necklace_, Sam!"

Batting the brunette's hands away Sam fixed her clothes. "It's at home. You know, you're acting a little crazy yourself, Carls – maybe _you_ need to take a bath…" Who'd have thought the light bulb moment would work to her advantage?

She didn't need to take a bath – she needed her BFF to stop _lying_ to her… "Just because you're smart enough not to wear the evidence doesn't mean I'm wrong. It doesn't prove anything!"

A week ago she _had_ been wearing the 'evidence' but Carly didn't know that. "So if, in the process of violating me, you had _found_ the necklace it would have proved I have feelings for him, but that you _didn't _proves nothing? How does that work?" It was a good thing Freddie was grounded 'cause if they compared notes Sam was royally screwed.

It didn't, really, but with the effort she was putting into avoiding the question Carly didn't _need_ it to. "Look me in the eye and tell me you don't have feelings for him."

Sam met her gaze. "I'm not a guy – your big doe eyes don't have the same magical mind-numbing effect on me…"

_Argh_. "_Sam_!" It was like running your head repeatedly into a brick wall…

Picking up her backpack Sam dryly noted, "You're turning an interesting shade of red there, Carls…" It really wasn't a good color on her…

Carly was _this _close to disowning her best friend. "If you don't have feelings for him why don't you just _say_ so?" There was no other explanation than she _couldn't_.

Would if she _could_… "The 'ten years' thing works both ways. I know you: when you think you're right you don't stop until you hear what you _want _to hear." It didn't matter that she _was _right – Sam still had no intention of telling her what she wanted to hear. And she didn't have the energy to spin any more tales that night, either. "Think what you want but I'm leaving."

Unsure _what_ to think anymore Carly changed tacks, gripping the blonde's arm to assure her, "I love you, Sam. I just want you to be happy…"

Sam's annoyance instantly evaporated, leaving her with an almost overwhelming need to come clean; to get rid of the increasingly unbearable weight on her shoulders. _Almost._ "I know you do," she allowed quietly, twirling a conciliating finger in brown locks while she held back tears. "It's the only thing saving you from having your toothpaste replaced with shaving cream…"

Carly's breath caught at the sheer sadness in Sam's voice, and it occurred to her that there was a lot more going unsaid than (possible) feelings for Freddie. "I wish you would talk to me…" she whispered hoarsely, her eyes stinging.

"And _I_ wish everything came bacon-flavored…" Giving the strand of hair an affectionate tug Sam released it with a forced smile. "See you around, Shay." She made a quick escape before her own eyes could become glossy; before she could become like her painstakingly-defended secret and slowly unravel. It wasn't until she got to her car – settled into the driver's seat and took a shaky breath – that she realized she'd forgotten to steal back her cupcakes. And _then _she cried.

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><p><strong>So, were you surprised it was actually a Sam chapter? Poor Sam was definitely having a bad night, confronted by everyone under the sun and trying to fend them all off. Only so much longer she'll be able to keep her big secret under wraps...<strong>

**Which brings me to a question I'm posing because your opinions interest me: How do you guys think Freddie should become privy to it?**

**- Carly figures it out and clues him in**

**- Marissa has a change of heart and helps her son out (you'll probably find out how she knows next chapter, btw)**

**- Franklin 'betrays' Sam when Freddie gets fed up and goes to him**

**- Freddie's a smart cookie & needs to remember how to put two and two together**

**Let me know! And please give me your thoughts on the chapter at the same time - I think I rewrote it five times (which added to the delay) and feedback is always appreciated...**

**Until next time!**


	19. Chapter 17

**Hello! I know I'm late but you have _no_ idea how unbelievably hard this chapter was to write even after I'd figured out where I wanted to go. I'm still not happy with it but I didn't want to make you wait any longer so here it is. Be gentle ;)**

**Regarding the last chapter, my apologies to anyone who read it before I fixed the Marisa/Marissa error; it bugs the crap out of me when others do it and doing it myself was embarrassing to say the least. In my defense the Latin and French sides of my brain refused to consider the name could be spelt any other way and I guess the English side (despite being the _biggest_ side) felt outnumbered and kept silent for fear of retaliation lol Please forgive me...**

**I hope you enjoy :)**

* * *

><p>Freddie sat with his ear against his door, wishing <em>he<em> had a camera in the living room so he could see what was going on with his mother and Sam. He'd anticipated yelling and screaming – possibly knick knacks breaking – and that he couldn't hear _anything_ scared the crap out of him because there was as much chance one had killed the other as there was that they were having a _rational_ conversation. When he heard the front door close he moved to his bed, partly because he knew his mother would expect him to stay where he was until she was ready to talk and partly because he was afraid of what he might find if he ventured from the room. Time ticked by and he was seriously considering that Sam _had _killed his mom when there was a sharp knock on his door followed by it opening. "What happened?"

"Oh, no," Marissa warned with a shake of her head, "you don't get to ask the questions here. What were you _thinking?"_

He assumed she meant the night of the video, not tonight, and he could quite honestly say he _hadn't _been thinking. Not at _that_ point, anyway. "Would you believe we were doing research for a project?"

Marissa raised an incredulous eyebrow as she sat. "One: I don't believe Sam _would_ be doing a project; two: if that's the kind of education you're getting we're going to be discussing private school; and three: if you really thought I was going to buy that excuse you would have started with it."

Feigning misunderstanding Freddie facetiously guessed, "So that's a 'no' then…" Her less than amused expression had him sighing and falling back against his headboard. "I love her, mom."

It shouldn't have come as a shock but it was one thing for Sam to imply it and another thing _entirely_ for him to state it so bluntly. "Let's start over: I'm going to leave, come back, and you can give me the 'research' excuse again…"

"Mom!" She couldn't ask him a question then get upset because she didn't like the answer…

Taking a calming breath Marissa decided to take the clinical approach. "Freddie, you're seventeen – you don't know what love _is_. It's more likely that hormones…"

Freddie cut her off with a terse, "Don't you think I would have gone through with it if it was just hormones?"

"If you had let me _finish_…" Marissa continued, giving him a disapproving cluck of the tongue, "hormones produced during arousal – oxytocin and certain androgens – have effects that simulate the _feeling_ of being in love. It's not a coincidence you had your revelation while you were engaged in what I saw on that recording."

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes Freddie denied, "It wasn't _like_ that." Okay, maybe it was a_ little_ like that… "Last week she let me in, mom. You know I found out more about her is six days than I did in six _years?_"

Sam had seen fit to leave that part out, apparently… "Why would she do that?" Anything she had kept secret she'd done for a reason, and Marissa couldn't see her sharing _any_ of it out of the kindness of her heart.

"Uh…" Freddie wracked his brain for an answer that _wouldn't_ give his mother a coronary. "Free smoothies?" Second time was the charm, right?

Could the lie _be_ any more transparent? "Fredward…"

_Or not._ "Promise me you won't freak…"

Well, that was reassuring… "I make no promises."

Freddie moved as far up the bed (away from _her_) as he could. Figuring the second time probably wouldn't be the charm for 'blackmail' either he rephrased, "We made a deal – she'd let me get close if I let us get 'close.'"

"Freddie!" The air quotes told Marissa everything she needed (and way more than she _wanted) _to know. She tried to comfort herself that at least it wasn't the other way around – testament to the way she'd raised her son – but it didn't work.

"I knew she wouldn't _otherwise_," he defended, almost sheepishly. "Before last week she only spent time with me for the show or because she had nothing better to do."

The regret coloring his words wasn't enough for Marissa to tell him that wasn't true. "It never bothered you before…"

Freddie shook his head. "I never knew it _could_ be any other way…" For a long time he'd just accepted that their friendship was mostly superficial and circumstantial; last week he'd finally felt like she _wanted_ to be with him. "I refuse to go back, mom."

"I don't think you have a choice, dear." Whether or not Marissa agreed with it she didn't foresee Sam _giving_ him one. "Maybe it's for the best if you just let it go…"

"Are you even _listening_ to me?" What was it about him that anyone with two X chromosomes found so easy to dismiss? "I'm not letting it go. I _love_ her…"

Marissa was starting to wonder if maybe Sam wasn't wrong and he actually _did_. "Freddie, there's a reason the vast majority of high school relationships don't last; you're too young to know what you _want_ much less what's best for you."

What was _best_ for him? "Why do I get the feeling you're not talking about _a _relationship so much as a relationship with _Sam_?"

Her first instinct was to deny it but she thought it would be better if he understood _why_. "I like Sam; I do." The girl grew on you like fungus; once Marissa had become immune to the less pleasant aspects of Sam's personality she'd found the blonde to be quite charming in her own 'special' way. "Lord knows she could have turned out much worse given her upbringing…"

_Huh? _"What do you know about it?" Between Franklin and his mom Freddie was starting to think everyone had known _but_ him…

More than him, Marissa was sure. "When we moved here and you started hanging around the girls I asked about them at school, to the other parents."

"You did background checks on my _friends_?" After the 'recording the hallway' thing nothing should have come as a surprise but his mom's Crazy never ceased to amaze and humiliate him.

Marissa shrugged. "Of course – you were so impressionable then; I had to make sure you weren't falling in with the wrong crowd."

He ignored the implication that he hadn't had a mind of his own to marvel, "And you still let me see them?" On the surface Sam was the very _definition_ of 'wrong crowd,' especially back then, and she and Carly had been attached at the hip.

"I almost _didn't_," Marissa confessed. "But Carly's reputation was spotless and as bad as Sam's was it wasn't nearly as… colorful… as her mother's." Alcoholic. Disorderly. Loose. Negligent. The general consensus being that Sam would have been better off raised by a pack of rabid hyenas… "I asked Spencer why he allowed Carly to be friends with her at all."

Freddie used to ask himself that same question about Spencer _constantly_… "What did he say?"

A lot, on the condition that she never repeated any of it. "That Sam had issues but she was a good kid and he trusted her to take care of Carly." Marissa sincerely doubted the delinquent would have turned out _half_ as well if Spencer hadn't had the faith in her he had.

"And you just took Spencer's word for it?" He couldn't help but sound skeptical – his mother and the elder Shay never really saw eye to eye on _anything_.

_Well, no._ She'd assumed he was either lying to mask his bad parenting or exaggerating for the same effect. "I had the non-pleasure of meeting Pam myself the first time she bothered to show up for parent-teacher conferences." The woman had been noticeably hung over but that hadn't stopped her from shamelessly flirting with the men that were present – most of them married – and judging by the handful of times Pam had attended school functions since nothing had changed. "Let's just say I got the distinct impression being a parent was hardly her first priority." Or anywhere in her top ten.

The way she'd phrased it told Freddie he wouldn't get the whole story even if he asked for it, and it struck him that her and Sam were more alike than either of them would care to admit. "If you know about her 'issues' why are you being so hard on her?"

_Hard on her?_ Marissa had always gone to _extreme _lengths to be patient with Sam, well aware that the acting out was at the very least due to a lack of discipline but much more likely a subconscious plea for attention; just because she _understood_ didn't mean she wanted her son embroiled in it. "I don't blame Sam for who she is, Freddie – who she is just isn't who I want you _with_."

Freddie's eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?" Like who she _was _wasn't any better than scum on the bottom of his shoe.

Marissa sighed, accepting she had to explain herself but knowing it wouldn't go over well. "It means you have feelings for her so you're blind to her faults."

"Are you kidding me?" he scoffed, "For the last six years I've been her preferred victim; I'm more than somewhat _familiar_ with her 'faults.'"

It wasn't the girl's anti-social tendencies Marissa took issue with. "I'm talking about her lack of long-term goals, Freddie. She has no drive, no motivation, no _ambition_... I don't want her holding you back."

He remembered Sam saying the same thing in the stairwell and felt his anger bubbling. "Did you say something to her?"

Marissa blinked, taken aback by the harshness of his tone. "Today?"

"_Before_," Freddie clarified. "Did you scare her off? Tell her she'd be ruining my life?"

"I wouldn't say something potentially damaging like that," she argued automatically, hand on her chest.

Freddie raised a disbelieving and unhappy eyebrow.

Okay, maybe she _would _say something like that… "Until an hour ago I didn't even know it was something I _needed_ to be concerned about." Not _seriously_ concerned, anyway; whatever remote possibility there'd been she'd always chosen to overlook. She was beginning to regret that decision.

He almost wished his mom _had_ given Sam the idea; that she had it all on her own made it worse somehow. "Do you think that's why she's fighting me?"

Marissa was starting to be concerned about her son's _intelligence_, the answer he was looking for literally in front of him countless times a day. "I doubt very much Sam's thinking that far ahead…"

"_Why_?" Freddie bit off, his defenses shooting back up. "Because she's _incapable_ of thinking ahead?"

_Because_ Sam would have to believe she _could_ be in a position to hold him back to worry that she _would_… "She isn't even making an effort, Freddie. It would be one thing if she were dumb but she's _not_; she's just wasting her potential."

She made it sound like Sam was merely lazy, and Freddie couldn't really blame her when a week ago he'd assumed the same. "Maybe she just doesn't think she'll get anywhere so she doesn't bother trying…"

Marissa suspected it was _exactly_ that but it didn't change anything. "You need to see this from my perspective," she gently urged. "I don't want you putting your dreams on hold for her; I know how hard it is to get back on track afterwards."

Swallowing hard Freddie translated, "Like you had to put your dreams on hold for _me_?" So much for her never making him feel like a mistake…

The pain in his eyes had Marissa's heart aching. "That's not what I meant…"

"That _is_ what you meant," he interrupted, getting off the bed. "What's next? That I'm just going to end up resenting her for what I had to give up?"

Marissa stood and went to him, gripping his shoulders and holding his gaze. "Listen to me: I made my choice, and difficult as the road was I don't regret it – _you_ – for a second." Brushing his hair back she whispered, "It just makes me even more determined to protect you…"

Freddie softened despite a concerted effort _not_ to. "I don't need you to protect me from Sam, okay?" He'd done just fine on his own for years.

"I'm trying to protect you from _yourself_," she corrected, careful to keep her tone soothing. "What happens when you're supposed to leave for college, Freddie? Do you expect her to just follow you?" Cupping his cheeks in tender hands she predicted, "Or are you going to put it off because she doesn't fit into your plan?"

"I don't know yet," Freddie admitted reluctantly. Getting Sam to _make _a plan was like step three when he was still stuck on step _one_… "We have time to figure it out; we're only seventeen…"

Marissa shook her head. "If you're old enough to be involved in an emotional and physical relationship you're old enough to consider its impact on your future…" He couldn't have it both ways.

Damn her and her logic… Covering her hands with his own he told her, "It's still _my_ future, mom; whatever I need to do Sam's going to be a part of it."

That was _precisely_ what she was afraid of… "Is there anything I can do to change your mind? Double your allowance? New editing bay? One-way ticket to your Aunt Jennifer's?"

"Mom!" He knew she was kidding (mostly) so he just lightly rapped on her knuckles.

Marissa sighed in resignation, knowing this was one battle she wouldn't win no matter how hard she tried. "Freddie, I don't think you understand what you're up against…" In more ways than one…

She wasn't looking at him anymore but over his shoulder, and Freddie followed her gaze to the picture taken at the last _iCarly Awards_. Turning back to her he warned, "If you're still holding out hope for me and Carly…"

"Absolutely not," Marissa firmly interrupted. "Your crush on Carly was cute in the beginning but I got tired of her leading you around by the nose a long time ago." Sam was by far the lesser of two evils; Carly lacked depth, among other things.

Freddie's brow furrowed and he pulled away from her. Maybe he _had_ been like that but she was saying it like he _still _was. "Listening to you and Sam you'd think I was Carly's _puppy_ for God's sake…" They really _were_ alike, right down to their… "Oh, God…"

As the realization hit his eyes Marissa was torn between relief that her son wasn't a complete idiot and dread at what came next. "Freddie…"

"I'm such an _idiot_…" he muttered, falling onto the bed and dropping his face into his hands. It was all there: the chair-moving at the Groovy Smoothie, the 'if I were Carly' in the janitor's closet, the displacement theory and her hypothetical 'what would you do?' on the trampoline. The way she withdrew every time he mentioned Carly. _This just isn't what you think it is…_ "I have to find her…"

Marissa grabbed his arm as soon as he jumped up. "Don't do this."

_Don't do this?_ "She _loves_ me, mom!" It was the first time he'd been able to say it with absolute conviction and it felt… well, kinda mortifying that it had taken him so long but otherwise _awesome_.

"I know," Marissa confirmed softly, "but if she knows _you_ know it'll kill her."

Freddie shook his head, confused. "How?"

"Well, obviously not _literally_…" More like embarrass her to the point she'd _want _to die…

"How do _you_ know?" he clarified with a huff. Unless they were closet BFFs he highly doubted Sam told her.

_Oh._ "I was a teenaged girl once upon a time, lest you forget." Not exactly like Sam but the signs were the same. "Quite the beauty, besides…"

"How long have you known?" 'And why didn't you tell me?' was implied by his betrayed tone.

Marissa didn't think he'd believe her if she told him she'd hid it for purely selfless reasons. Mostly. "I had my suspicions for a while but she was always so hard to read; I wasn't sure until you got hit by that truck."

That she'd suspected for at _least_ two years was overshadowed by the surprise at _how_ she'd found out, and he offered sarcastically, "Right – 'cause buying a taco off the guy that hit me just screams 'I love you.'"

Leading him to sit with her on the bed she allowed, "I thought so, too. When we were waiting at the hospital she might as well have been taking a test for all the emotion she showed; just sat there holding Carly like she had no other reason to be there." Next to Carly's breakdown Sam had looked positively cold. Marissa had been less than impressed. "When Spencer let it slip about the taco I snapped and told her to leave." Her son didn't need to know about all the horrible nasty things she'd _also_ said to the blonde that she'd later regretted.

This was starting to feel like a Spencer story. A particularly long, particularly _painful_ Spencer story… "That makes me feel _so much _better, mom. Thanks."

She squeezed his hand to get him to hush. "Twenty minutes later we got the all clear on your scans and I went outside to get some air while they were applying your casts. I found her on a bench, crying." Cracking a smile Marissa remembered: "She said it was because the cafeteria was out of pudding – dessert to wash down her ill-gotten taco – and we pretended I believed her…"

It was way too much information, way too _heavy_, for him to process all at once. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You started dating Carly," she reminded him with a shudder. Thank goodness _that_ hadn't lasted long… "You knowing was the last thing Sam needed." And the last thing Marissa had _wanted_.

God, he felt so _dirty_. For the longest time he'd been mad at Sam for not visiting while he was laid up and then delivering her doomsday message the very next time he'd seen her; he could only imagine how _she'd_ felt while him and Carly were being all 'coupley' in her face. And the worst part was he'd never even felt like they were a _real_ couple, anyway… "How am I supposed to prove I love her when she's convinced I love Carly?" He would never fight his mom's Crazy again if she could just fix it for him…

Marissa heard the pain in his quiet plea and almost wished she could help. "You _can't_, dear." The likelihood of Sam ever trusting him with her heart was next to nil, and while she might eventually give in she'd only hate herself for it. And probably _him_, too.

"Mom!" And here he thought he'd finally gotten through to her and won her over to his side. His very _ally-less _side…

"Freddie, _I don't know_." It was the truth – Sam's resistance went so much deeper than simple distrust; finding where the issue stemmed would be like unraveling a humongous ball of tangled threads. "But if you're not a hundred percent sure she's really what you want – for _her_, not as a convenient substitute – I don't even want you _trying_." The girl had already been through enough without him playing with her emotions, intentionally or not.

Freddie begged with his eyes for her to believe him. "Mom, I'm _sure_; _two _hundred percent…"

After a minute of quiet contemplation (and against her better judgment) Marissa sighed, "Then I guess we'll figure it out…" _Lord help me…_

"Thank you," Freddie breathed, leaning over to envelope her in a tight hug.

"Don't thank me yet," Marissa warned, "that love of yours' head is harder than a brick wall and just as impenetrable…"

_True_, but that wasn't what he'd meant. Lifting his head from her shoulder he whispered, "Thanks for being my mom…"

Marissa blinked back tears. "Just don't forget me when you go off and start your ill-planned future with _whatshername_…"

Freddie hugged her again, teasing, "You wouldn't let me even if I wanted to…"


	20. Chapter 18

**Hello :)**

**So I gave in and watched the finale 'cause... well, it was the finale. Kinda wish I hadn't. Even though I'd already jumped ship to reclaim my seat on the Spam Tram clearly I wasn't over it because Dan Schneider managed to break my Seddie-loving heart all over again. Silver lining? I feel completely vindicated and well within my rights to hate both Carly and Freddie. And it pushed me to finish this story, if only so I can put it behind me and maybe give some closure to those of you still waiting for me to get off my duff. I promised to finish it and I will; my heart just may not be in it 100%.**

**I also want to say sorry for the ginormous delay, and I also apologize to those of you who've messaged me without response. Life has been crazier than usual lately. But I do read all your messages and it helps somewhat for me to know that some of you still held out hope despite the crap Seddiers had been given.**

**Anyway, i****f you want to share your thoughts on the finale, feel free. I'm bitter but I know mileage may vary.**

**Thanks for hanging on for so long and keeping the faith!**

**Because it's been so long here's the 'previously' in a nutshell: Sam apparently misheard the expression 'the best way to get over someone is to get under someone _else_' and propositioned Freddie thinking it would get him out of her system. They got closer, he told her he loved her, and she doesn't believe him because of the 'C' word. After much confusion, misdirection, and the biggest lie Sam's told in years Freddie finally figured it out (with an assist from Marissa). What will he do now? Read on, my friends...**

* * *

><p>Freddie had a plan. Well, not a <em>plan <em>per se… more a checklist of things to steer clear from than a roadmap to guaranteed success (as if there could even _be_ such a thing where Sam was concerned), but it was still more than he'd had that afternoon. The hard (bordering on _impossible_) part was figuring out how to convince the stubborn blonde he loved her with what little he _was_ allowed to say, and every red light on the way to her house was a mixed blessing, giving him time to rehearse his speech while he drummed impatiently on the steering wheel. Of course all the practice in the _world_ wouldn't help if she hadn't actually gone home; he wasn't sure he could find her hidden copse of trees in broad daylight much less in the dark...

Sam was curled up on the couch listening to her PearPod – having changed into her favorite sweats and an oversized Seattle Tech kangaroo pullover – when Frothy jumped off her feet to start pacing at the front door. It was her cue that either he wanted out or someone else wanted _in_, and _God_ she hoped it was the first 'cause after the Bushwell she didn't have the energy or self-control left to deal with anyone else…

"It's me, Sam!" Freddie shouted, loud enough to be heard inside. "Open the door!"

Well, she definitely wasn't answering the door _now_; of all the people she _didn't _have the self-control to deal with 'me' was _numero uno_… Still, instead of replacing the ear bud she just tore the finished drawing from her sketchbook and started anew.

After a minute Freddie gave up the ineffectual ringing and moved to the living room window, only to find heavy curtains obstructing his view. "I know you're home, Sam! The car's in the driveway!"

He hadn't even _seen_ her with the car that day so unless he was psychic…

"If it was your mom she'd answer the door!"

"_Not if she was drunk and/or unconscious,_" Sam sing-songed under her breath, the outline of a rhinoceros herd taking shape beneath her charcoal.

Trying not to feel like an idiot yelling at thin air he reasoned, "And if your mom was home and you _weren't_ you'd have taken the car anyway!"

The deduction was somewhat flawed (Pam could have gotten home _after_ she'd left to meet Carly) but if he was going to follow that logic it should have led him directly to the conclusion that he _wasn't_ getting in…

"Sam, let me in or I'll break down the door!" Going back he kicked it for emphasis (and to vent just a bit of frustration).

She paused mid-stroke to lift a disparaging eyebrow. Far be it from her to school him on B&E but he would probably have an easier time breaking the _window_… Setting aside her PearPod and drawing materials she got up to peer at him through it.

Freddie put his back to the door and slid down it – part defeat, part show of defiance. "I'm not leaving until you hear me out!" He would be more confident about his determination paying off if he knew for sure she _could_ hear him; if she was in her room listening to music (or asleep) then he really _was_ just an idiot yelling at thin air…

"_Don't look at me like that!" _Sam hissed at Frothy, dropping the drapes back into place. Rationally she knew he didn't understand what was going on but she could swear she saw judgment in his eyes. More than the _usual_ amount of feline judgment, anyway…

"_Come on_…" How could he even try to convince her if she wouldn't talk to him?

Between Freddie's pitiful tone and the cat's quiet condemnation Sam's resistance crumbled. She had to keep _some_ semblance of authority, though, so she opened the door quickly and without warning.

Freddie's eyes widened in surprise as he fell backwards into the house; slammed shut in a wince as his head met the carpeted floor. It wasn't _quite_ the entrance he'd wanted to make but at least he was in. _Kinda_.

Any guilt Sam was feeling evaporated when Frothy first sniffed Freddie's forehead, then placed his (only) front paw on it like the boy was captured prey. Far from sorry it was all she could do not to burst out _laughing_…

"You tell him to do that?" Freddie griped up at her from his prone position, afraid to stand lest the cat toppled. Or took the movement as an invitation to _attack_…

No one _told _Frothy to do anything – it's what made him her soul mate. "He's investigating the _thing_ that dared make all that ruckus…" Scooping up the cat she rewarded him with an ear scratch. "Good job, Tripod."

As soon as he was free Freddie got to his feet and closed the door, then moved towards her under the pretext of going to pet his ex-captor. "Your mom home?"

Sam stepped out of his reach and returned to the living room. "Nope." Hadn't they covered that with all the yelling through the door?

And apparently they were pretending they _hadn't _been about to kiss (again) less than two hours before. Not that he'd expected any different… "Where is she?"

"She met a Captain." With a last scratch to Frothy's head Sam deposited him on the couch and started gathering her strewn sketches. "She's off somewhere on his schooner."

"_Oh_…" Among the pages she was picking up Freddie caught glimpses of himself suffering various highly detailed deaths including (but not limited to) being crushed by an anaconda, maimed by clowns, and trampled by what he thought was a bloat of stampeding hippos. She certainly had been a busy little psychopath, and it was probably bad that he found it less disturbing than he did _flattering_… "What happened to Rob?"

"_Ray_," she corrected automatically. Roy? Or was it Guido? Anyway… "She left him in Vegas. What happened to being _grounded_?" If she'd known he wasn't under house arrest she would have made herself a little harder to track down.

Freddie shrugged, hands in his jacket pockets so his nerves wouldn't give him away. "I snuck out."

"_Right_…" Putting her work inside the sketchbook Sam tossed it onto the end table as she dropped herself onto the couch. "Try again, James Dean." The boy needed to focus less on lying to impress her and more on saying what he came to before she bounced his butt.

"Fine," he allowed, taking a seat on the coffee table in front of her, "Once the shock wore off she realized she was overreacting." The less said about the conversation with his mom the less chance he'd let something slip…

Sam pulled her legs up onto the cushion – Indian style, to avoid contact – and derisively volunteered, "Well, blowing things out of proportion _is_ a Benson family trait." As was reneging on a deal, apparently.

The movement and attempt to mislead were completely obvious now that Freddie knew what was really going on. Hell, they probably should have been obvious _before_ but she made it all seem so natural… Taking a deep breath he launched into his (partially) prepared speech: "You have thrown me off buildings, out of buildings, _gotten _me thrown out of buildings…"

"What's your point?" She couldn't really play the 'who hurt who more?' game without telling him _why _the things he'd done had hurt her…

Clearly he'd wasted his time preparing because she wasn't going to leave him any leeway _whatsoever_… "That's the past, right?"

"Are you asking me if I'd ever do it again?" Lifting her shoulders in an unapologetic shrug Sam shared, "'Cause I gotta tell ya, if the situation called for it…"

She'd trailed off of her own accord and he suspected he was meant to assume she would. "Point _is_, things change; you used to make my life miserable and I put up with it."

"Put up with it?" She quirked an eyebrow; a not-so-subtle warning that – whatever his objective was – he was taking the wrong tack. "You should have been _thanking_ me…"

"_Thanking_ _you_?" Was she serious? "You want me to _thank_ you for years of physical and emotional abuse?" Less than a minute in and already she'd thrown him for a loop…

Sam gave him a look that screamed '_duh_!' "I forced you to stand up for yourself; if it weren't for me you'd still be a frickin' puppet…" Not to mention he'd only 'put up with it' to be around the puppet _master_…

Knowing where she was coming from didn't make the comparison any less offensive. "So what you're saying is that you were doing me a _favor_?" He returned her look with an '_are you mad?_' one of his own.

"More like I was doing _myself_ a favor – the only time I could tolerate you was when you weren't doing your impression of a doormat." She pursed her lips and deadpanned, "Hating you all the time was _exhausting_…"

Freddie was only pretty sure she was joking. "And what's your excuse for training Gibby to beat me up?" Now that the taco fiesta had been explained that one hurt the most of all the things she'd ever done to him, and it sure as hell hadn't had anything to do with him being a 'doormat.' "You were trying to make me a man?"

No – she was the only one allowed to make him a man. _Er_, beat him up, rather… "Who changed the fight to the _iCarly _studio, Freddie?"

It took him a mere second to answer. "_You_ _did_, because you enjoy maximizing my misery by sharing it with our fans." First kiss debacle, anyone?

"You're an idiot," Sam announced with a disappointed shake of her head. "I had to practically lead you by the clown nose to the proof of your innocence." The boy needed to cool it on the video games and work on leveling up in street smarts.

Okay, so he _was_ kind of slow sometimes (the last week more than proved it) but Freddie thought she'd been entirely too happy about the fight to have stopped it _on purpose_. "Why didn't you just remind me about the sandwich?"

Because she'd still been too hurt about his taking Carly's side in the fight and then them dating to _actively_ help him… "Where's the fun in that? Your expression waiting for Gibby to pound the fudge out of you made for one of the rare times I _wished_ you'd had the camera on yourself." Thankfully she hadn't had to find out if she'd been bitter enough to let the fight happen if he _hadn't_ caught on.

As moving as her covert intervention was it made Freddie worry his case wasn't as ironclad as he'd thought. "Fine," he allowed after taking a minute to regroup, "But one time doesn't erase everything else."

"_One time_?" Did the boy have selective memory? "Do you really think I wanted to get involved in your 'hero' drama with Carly?" That had been one of Sam's least favorite conversations _ever_, starting with having to dodge his jealousy questions and ending with him looking like she'd taken away his junior camcorder. "_Chiz_ no. But I did anyway 'cause I knew it would end badly for you. Just like I helped break up your mom and Lewbert and I took care of it when Chad wouldn't leave you alone."

Even though she'd brought Carly into the discussion Freddie thought it would be ill-advised to _keep_ her there, and he went with the Chad Christopher thing instead because her claim to have _helped_ was just absurd. "He tormented me for months to impress _you_ – how is that 'taking care of it'?"

Sam rolled her eyes. "He made fun of you, Freddie; you weren't going to die just because he called you names." It was hardly her fault the senior thought emulating her was the key to _getting_ her…

"He tripped me and _sprained my wrist_!" It wasn't death but Freddie could still remember the agony of his hand twisting under his weight.

"And _then_ I took care of it…" She may have let others play with her toys but Sam drew the line at breaking them. "Or haven't you noticed he hasn't said 'boo' to you since before break?"

Of course he'd _noticed_… "I thought he got a warning from Franklin."

"Oh, he got a warning, all right…" And he'd gotten the message loud and clear. And painfully.

The pieces clicked in Freddie's brain and his mouth fell open. "He said he broke his wrist playing _hockey_…"

His gullibility had her rolling her eyes again. "You really think he was going to admit a _girl_ did it?" Head jock on campus had a reputation to protect. _Franklin_ had seen through it, though; that man had the pursed lips of 'I'm disappointed in you' down to perfection. Probably because she gave him so much practice…

The thought that she'd been responsible hadn't even crossed Freddie's mind, mostly because when he'd fallen she'd just laughed while Carly rushed to help him. And then she'd agreed to _date_ the guy. _Oh, God…_ "You went out with him _just_ to hurt him?!" It was official: she was as certifiable as his mom…

"Dude shouldn't have tried to hold my hand," Sam shrugged. She found that lulling them into a false sense of security first always left a stronger impression _after_.

The image of her casually exacting (his) revenge made Freddie smile; it was a lot more satisfying than his original fantasy of running Chad over with the Prius… "Why didn't you tell me?"

She gave a dismissive flick of the wrist. "Chad's not the only one with a rep to protect." It just so happened she _also _had a secret to protect.

"I don't care about your rep, Sam; I had a right to know." Except him thinking she just didn't give a damn was probably _exactly_ what she'd wanted. God, she was complicated.

He had a _right_ to know? "_Really_?" she challenged, eyebrow raised. "Is that why you told me about the _School at Sea _thing?"

_Uh_… Freddie blinked because she'd never even let on she _knew_ about the _School at Sea_ thing… "Who told you?"

Wendy, actually, but Sam had already known. "Who do you think hacked the system so you'd win it in the first place?" Ted never had learned his lesson about leaving her alone with his computer, though she'd be a lot more hesitant to break his trust now than she'd been back then.

It struck him as vaguely 'Gift of the Magi' that the trip he'd secretly given up to save her from Missy's machinations had secretly come from her… Just to see what excuse she'd come up with he voiced a mock-confused, "Why would you fix the contest?"

Lots of reasons: she'd needed a distraction from all the Missy chiz; to make up for the tartar-sauce-fueled clothing massacre. Because he'd wanted it. She wasn't about to admit to any of _those_, though. "Between you and the pest from the past I needed a break and Franklin would've been suspicious if _I'd_ won." Especially since she hadn't even signed up… "If I'd let on I was surprised you _didn't_ he would've figured it out anyway and I'd have been stuck with you _both_."

Freddie couldn't tell from her small smile whether she was teasing him or was just proud of her _own _machinations… "Why are you telling me all this now?" Although the better question was probably: how did she manage to counter an argument she didn't even know he was _making_?

"You're talking like all I've ever done is abuse you…" Sam averted her eyes and pulled at a thread that had come loose of her sock. "I'm pointing out that I don't treat you the same I do Carly but I _do_ protect you when you need protecting." They just had differing opinions on what he needed protection _from_…

Declaration of love it was _not_ but it felt like progress… Covering her fidgeting hand with his own Freddie squeezed until she met his gaze. "Then _I'm_ going to point out – _without_ calling you an idiot – that I gave Missy the trip knowing I'd be hurting Carly for nothing if you were wrong. I supported your stupid daffodil phase even though it drove me crazy. I brought chili – that _I_ made with my mom, by the way – _into _the Chili Bowlso you wouldn't feel bad about not being allowed to eat theirs. I never turned you in for any of your punishable offences, _including_ messing with our grades. I took the blame for you _all _the time. I _always _defend you even though you never appreciate it. I bring you lunch every day…"

"Why would you say it like that?" Sam cut in, having finally dislodged the lump caught painfully in her throat.

Freddie's brow crumpled in confusion. "Say what like what?" He hadn't expected her to fall at his feet but 'suspicion' definitely wasn't the response he'd been going for…

"'Knowing I'd be hurting Carly.'" Just repeating it set Sam's heart to pounding. She had to will her tone steady to translate, "Like you're spelling out that it was at her expense." Like he _knew_…

_Shit._ He'd been so relieved they were actually communicating, distracted by the light at the end of the tunnel, that he'd slipped up. So much for coming clean _after_ he'd won her over…

The panicked look on his face turned the sinking feeling in Sam's stomach into a full-blown debilitating knot of humiliation. She yanked her hand from beneath his before he could notice it shaking. "You need to leave."

In the blink of an eye she'd pulled him up by the arm and he was being tugged towards the door. "Sam, _wait_…" He dug his heels into the carpet, careful not to trample the cat following under foot. "It's not a big deal…"

_Not a big deal?_ She felt mortified and violated and more than anything _stupid _because she really should have clued in what with the messed up trip down memory lane and precise way he'd been choosing his words… Rounding on him it took every ounce of resolve she had to keep the tears from falling. "Don't tell me it's not a big deal; I don't need your permission _or_ your pity…"

"Sam, that's not what I meant…" It had seemed so simple: don't mention Carly; don't let her know you know; don't minimize her feelings. And yet: Fail; fail; _fail_… "I just don't want you to be embarrassed, okay?"

Sam bit the inside of her lip so hard it broke skin. "If anyone should be embarrassed here it's _you_; I didn't spend the last six years a lapdog."

Refusing to take the bait Freddie calmly held up a finger. "Okay, one: I've never been anywhere _near _her lap…"

"Not for lack of _trying_," Sam volunteered, patronizing eyebrow on full display.

"…Nor do I _want _to be," he continued as though she hadn't interrupted. "And _two_: you're not going to chase me off by being a bitch; it hasn't worked yet and it's not going to work now."

_Oh, no?_ "You have _no _idea what I'm capable of…" She could be as cruel as she had to be, and at the moment it wouldn't bother her in the slightest to rip him to shreds. Hell, she might even _enjoy_ it…

Freddie shook his head. "I know _exactly _what you're capable of, good and bad." Stepping towards her he sighed when she took an even bigger step back. "I love _you_, Sam. Not Carly."

"_Yeah_," she scoffed, folding her arms over her chest. "Just because you finally woke up and smelled the 'it's a lost cause' coffee, _Freddie_, doesn't mean I'm going to drink the 'it never happened' Kool-Aid." It wouldn't work anyway; she'd been captive audience far too long for it _not _to be irrevocably seared into her memory.

"I didn't say it never happened," he argued, equal parts regret and exasperation. "I said things are _different_." He could swear whenever he opened his mouth all she heard was 'wah wah wah, wah wah wah _wah_…'

"Things are only different because _I _made them different." And Sam would take it back in a hot minute if she could… "If I hadn't screwed up you'd still be happily pining Carly's fjords and I wouldn't be stuck here talking about it…" And trying not to cry.

He winced at the crude imagery. "I don't think that means what you think it does."

His reddened cheeks said he understood what _she _meant and that was good enough for her. "Can't help but notice you didn't deny it…" Wished she could be _surprised_…

"What's the point?" She either ignored what he said or condemned him for what he _didn't_… "I could put it in blood and you _still_ wouldn't believe me."

As tempted as she was to put that theory to the test… "Glad we're in agreement that you're wasting your breath…" Going to the door she eased it open. "…_and_ my time. Thanks for dropping by; pleasure as always."

"I'm not leaving, Sam." He moved to place his hand over hers on the knob. "And I'm not giving up." No matter how much she lashed out or how hard she fought him.

"Of course not," she concurred, as familiar with his ridiculously dogged persistence as she was with the way his hovering made her pulse race. "But at least I don't have to put up with it for much longer." Either one.

Freddie blinked at her, his mouth suddenly dry. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"That I don't have Carly's patience; it's a shame she'll have to be dead for them to canonize her." It _was_ Carly though so they'd probably make an exception.

"What do you mean '_for much longer,_' Sam?" He had to know if he'd just given her the excuse she needed to move to California but didn't want to risk giving her the idea if he _hadn't_.

Did she have to draw him a picture? "'Cause soon you'll be off to college and _on_ to stalking the next unsuspecting chick you think you have a shot with." Most people would consider a year long but it was nothing compared to the six she'd just done.

Delivering an insult or not, Freddie detected the same wistful note in her voice he'd heard in the stairwell during their impromptu chat about the future. "Is that what this is about?" he asked, relief taking a back seat to realization.

Sam tilted her head wryly. "You trading one sick obsession for another?" She thought that had already been established…

Removing her hand from the knob he kept it wrapped in his as he shut the door with his foot. "What happens after grad…"

It was her turn to blink. "I don't know – what happens after grad?" If he _hadn't_ found out about her plan to abscond to L.A. she wasn't about to enlighten him.

"It wasn't a question, Sam." It was a theory based on the only topic to crop up in their conversations _more _than his 'obsession' with Carly… "You think I'm going to go off and forget about you."

Sam studied him a second, eyes narrowed. "Is this your pathetic attempt at damage control? A little psychological sleight of hand to shift the blame onto me?"

She tried to pull away but Freddie held fast. "I'm not saying it's your fault, okay? I'm just trying to figure out what the problem is so I can fix it." He wasn't stupid enough to think Carly wasn't an issue but something was telling him it went deeper even than that.

_Fix it? _"Fix _me, _you mean," she interpreted through gritted teeth. "'Cause apparently the problem here _isn't_ that you're delusional; it's that _I'm_ needy…"

Freddie would kill for a 'Puckett' primer to tell him _why_ she insisted on twisting everything he said into a personal attack… "It doesn't make you needy to want the people you love to stick around, Sam." Especially since so few of them _had_.

"Don't you _ever_ get tired of jumping to conclusions?" Where the hell did he get off telling her what she 'wanted' when he didn't even know what _he_ did?

"I'm not making it up…" He may have been an idiot for not realizing _why_ she was hiding her feelings but he hadn't been wrong about her _having_ them, and he didn't think he was wrong _now_… "You said when Melanie left you felt like you'd been abandoned. _Again._"

Those exact words had never passed her lips but Sam wasn't going to argue semantics, her composure only holding by a frayed thread. "Walk away, Freddie…" Before he pushed her to say or do something they'd_ both_ regret.

Freddie knew he was treading a fine line but he needed her to know he understood. "I get that you're scared, okay? That I don't really love you and that I'm just going to leave you. But Sam…"

"You _really_ need to stop talking now…" There was only one person allowed to 'shrink' her and it sure as hell wasn't _him_.

Suppressing the pain of her nails digging into his skin he brought their joined hands to his heart. "I'm not your dad, Sam…"

Her free hand was an inch from his cheek before she managed to catch herself, trembling from the restraint it took and the force of her anger. "_Get out._"

He didn't speak – self-preservation having kicked in – but he didn't obey her command, either.

"You have _no right_ to talk about him…" The urge to break his restraining fingers was so strong Sam's own twitched. "He may have left but my dad is the only one who ever loved _me _first. Not Melanie. Not Carly. _Me_."

Freddie hadn't (really) meant it as a criticism – just recognition of the root of her fear – and he _definitely_ hadn't meant to cause the tears shimmering in her eyes. Releasing her he took a step back and raised his arms in surrender. "I'm sorry…"

Sam quickly bent to pick Frothy up, both for something to keep her hands occupied and so she could covertly wipe her cheeks. "_I _get it, okay? They're sweetness and light and everything that's right with the world and I'm just selfish and cold and mean."

The sheer defeat in her voice made Freddie want to close the distance again but she'd positioned the cat between them like a shield. A shield with a _very_ impressive death glare and a tendency to pounce with the slightest provocation… "Sam, that's not true."

"It _is _true." She'd heard it all before, from him and others. "But you know what, Freddie? I had to be selfish because if I didn't look out for me no one else _would_. I learned to be _cold_ because when I let it all get to me I didn't want to get out of bed in the morning. And I got mean because I realized if people kept their distance I wouldn't _care_ if they suddenly disappeared." She swallowed hard before concluding, "That's _my_ life, Freddie. That's who _I_ am and it's not going to change." And she wasn't going to apologize for it.

Freddie shook his head, heart clenching in sympathy. "I don't _want_ you to change. _God_, Sam…"

"And I told you I don't want your pity." She'd only told him because he seemed intent on psychoanalyzing her and she figured she'd save them both some trouble. Why he couldn't just want to get her 'on his couch' the _normal_ testosterone-driven teenaged boy way she'd never know…

"This isn't even about us anymore, okay?" The quest to win her over had just dropped to second on his list of priorities. "How do I get you to see Carly's not better than you?"

Was that a _joke_? "Considering the entire time I've known you you've 'shown' me the exact opposite?" He _couldn't_…

"Sam, that's not true." He felt like a broken record.

"Oh, no?" _Let me count the ways…_ "You named the show after her. You fell all over yourself for a simple 'for me?' when I could barely get you to aim the camera my way. You took her side over mine _all the time, _not because you actually agreed with her but because you _loved_ her. And even though I already _knew_ she was perfect you insisted on shoving it down my throat thirty times a day. Does any of that sound familiar to you?"

It _all_ did, unfortunately… "I'm sorry, okay? But it hasn't been like that for a long time and it's really not fair for you to say it has." That she'd yet to say 'sorry' for all the things _she'd_ done back then was a detail he could overlook for the moment.

Maybe it _wasn't_ fair but Sam didn't care. "I'm tired, Freddie…" Opening the door again she propped herself in its jamb. "Please go home."

If the use of 'please' hadn't tipped him off that she was being sincere the tone and posture would have. Still, he couldn't just give up… Moving to stand in front of her he locked his gaze onto hers. While _avoiding_ Frothy's… "We're not done, Sam."

She hid a smirk at his predictability. "_I _am…"

Before Freddie knew what was happening she'd sidestepped back into the house and 'helped' him over the threshold with a well-aimed hip.

"Whatever you have left to say you can say it to your diary…" Using the cat's paw to wave a mocking goodbye she slammed the door.

"It's a journal!" he huffed indignantly, climbing to his feet just as the deadbolt clicked.

Sam collapsed back against the warped wood, deflated, and buried her face in Frothy's fur to camouflage the tears. "_Just go, Freddie…_"

Freddie stared at the physical barrier between them while he contemplated the many _non_-physical ones. Deciding that he'd pushed her enough for one night (accepting that he didn't have much _choice_) he sighed and started down the steps. "I'll be back, Sam!" Threat. Promise. Terminator reference. However she wanted to take it, that _was_ true. They had too much to lose for it not to be…

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><p><strong>Three chapters left 'til a (maybe) happy ending, peeps!<strong>

**Thanks for reading :)**


	21. Chapter 19

Sam shuffled down the stairs, fervently cursing the world in general, whoever was leaning on her doorbell _in particular,_ and predicting murder in her immediate future. And possibly jail time, if she got caught…

"Samantha Puckett, you open this door _right now_!"

If she hadn't been in the process of doing _exactly_ that Sam would have turned on her heel and headed back to bed; instead she had the non-pleasure of coming face-to-face with not one but _two_ annoying Bensons. "Joy."

Marissa gave a disapproving cluck of her tongue. "Don't be rude."

'Rude' was just a happy bonus: "The moment felt like it called for a middle name…" Moving to close the door she faux-casually invited, "You should give it another go." This time she just wouldn't answer…

Freddie instinctively shot out an arm; gaped, "Your middle name is '_Joy_?!'" His surprise doubled when Frothy bolted through their legs and across the lawn.

The loss of her pillow sent Sam's irritation into overdrive. "_No_ – I just thought 'Joy' really suited me, you know?" _Dumbass._

Far from intimidated, Freddie found himself wondering if Melanie's was equally cheesy. Like 'Grace' or 'Rainbow'…

"Well, are you going to let us in?" Marissa prompted into the lull.

Sam shook her head in mock regret. "Sorry – my parole officer told me to _avoid_ the temptation to commit murder…"

"Sam!" Joke or not, Marissa didn't take threats to her son's life lightly.

Lifting her shoulders Sam unapologetically shrugged, "You're included in that." A night spent indignantly dissecting her conversation with the nub had left her tired and hostile, and the thought that the woman had played a part in his little revelation (and was thus partially responsible _for_ said conversation) did nothing to improve her mood.

"I figured it out on my own, Sam…" It wasn't the complete truth but it wasn't a complete _lie_, either, and Freddie needed her to _not_ hate at least one of them.

Sam didn't believe him for a second – the woman's presence speaking volumes – and her dead stare let him know it.

"It's impolite to leave your guests standing outside," Marissa interjected, more to spare her son than because she thought it would be incentive for the blonde.

"I'm pretty sure it's _more _impolite to show up at someone's house uninvited." Not that Sam wasn't guilty of it herself but she wasn't the one citing social etiquette… "See, if I'd known you were coming I'd have…" She chewed her lip in exaggerated deliberation. "Cleaned? No. Made myself presentable? No, that's not it, either…" Snapping her fingers she feigned enlightenment: "Not been here! _That's_ the one…"

Marissa took a calming breath; reminded herself that sass was the girl's self-defense mechanism. "Sam, we just want to talk."

Barking a bitter laugh Sam vowed, "Oh, I am so done talking I'd yank out my own larynx if I thought people wouldn't just keep talking _at _me."

Freddie flinched at the harsh tone. He probably should have warned his mom that talking wasn't high on Sam's list of things to do…

"Now if you'll excuse me," Sam continued tightly, "I'd like to get back to bed and I'm sure you're anxious to get out of this neighborhood."

The reminder had Marissa glancing around almost nervously. "It's lunch time."

"It's _Saturday_ – last I checked sleeping past noon wasn't a crime." If it _were_ her rap sheet would fill an entire cabinet instead of just an oversized binder…

Marissa brought her attention back to the conversation; clarified, "I meant we brought lunch, Sam." Which wasn't to say she _sanctioned_ lazing in bed all day, of course…

Sam had as much interest in the food the nub was carrying as she did having them in her house. I.E. _none whatsoever_… "I'm not hungry."

"You're _always _hungry," Freddie immediately countered. "_That_ should have been your middle name…"

Narrowing her eyes at him Sam growled, "If we're going for accuracy your middle name's gonna be 'Crippled' in about a minute." Did the boy not possess an ounce of self-preservation?

Freddie shushed his mother before she could deliver the habitual scolding; if Sam hadn't hurt him the night before he doubted he had anything to worry about. So long as he avoided certain topics…

It wasn't difficult for Marissa to swallow the reprimand on her lips, quickly forgotten in the wake of growing concern. Either the blonde was upset enough to turn down free food just to spite Freddie or she really _wasn't_ hungry. Neither of which was a very good sign… "You still need to eat, Sam."

"I've been feeding myself for years now, thanks." Granted most of it was done at other people's houses, sometimes theirs, but that wasn't the point. Point _was_ the show was closed – food wasn't going to buy them admission.

Luckily Marissa never backed down from a challenge because this one was proving to be a little trickier than her usual puzzles… The first step was getting past the porch, which meant putting her foot down: "Regardless, we intend to stay for lunch."

"And _I_ intend to rule the world someday," Sam snarked. "Alas, life is full of disappointment." She knew from experience.

Freddie used a thumb to pop the lid off the bucket and waved it under her nose. "But it's _fried chicken…_" Fried chicken was _never_ a disappointment where Sam was concerned…

She thrust it back at him. "I _said_ I'm not hungry." Except her stomach decided that just then was an _excellent_ time to loudly contradict her, the smell of greasy goodness doing its intended job. Damn her weakness for greasy goodness…

"You were saying?" Freddie hid his amusement behind a cocked eyebrow, intensely grateful he'd thought to bring a backup plan to his backup plan.

Marissa almost felt bad as a petulant frown took over Sam's features. "Well? Shall we eat?"

Mother and son wore identical expressions, heads tilted slightly and lips pursed expectantly, and Sam felt like she was on the receiving end of a Care Bear Stare. She guessed that made her Sour Sam, only without the crabby apple pies. And now she had a massive craving for Galini's… "Fine! But no talking – as soon as we're done you're gone… Got it?"

Freddie raised his free hand in surrender. "Got it." They'd just have to figure out some way to change her mind.

As he went to walk by her Sam read his calculating look. "I can hear your hamster running on its wheel, Freddie." Stopping him with a hand on his chest she warned, deadly seriously, "I'm not kidding, boy – if you test me I'm gonna make _you_ go 'Pffffft!'"

She didn't mimic the explosion so Freddie's brain helpfully supplied the memory. He was pretty sure 'absolutely adorable' wasn't what she was going for but there it was. "_Comprendió_, Consuela," he winked down at her.

"_Increíble_!" Sam huffed, throwing her arms in the air and turning on her heel to head to the kitchen. The nerve of him, flirting with her when he should have been fearing for his life. Had she lost _all_ credibility? Never mind – she didn't think she wanted to know the answer to that...

Freddie walked behind her, instantly dropping his smirk when she turned to glare at him. Judging by her narrowed eyes she didn't buy his innocent act _at all_, which only made it harder to keep a straight face. No sooner was her back to him than the goofy grin returned. God, he loved her.

Hamster to huff-off Marissa didn't understand a word of what the kids had said but she found herself amused nonetheless. Shaking her head in silent laughter she followed after them, thinking that if they ever managed to get on the same page their life would never be boring, that was certain…

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><p><strong>I know the chapter is short but I figured you guys would want to know that I'm still working on the story, at least. I will finish it but as I've said the finale left me without the motivation to do so; unfortunately updates will be far between as I have to gather the will to write it. I know it sucks but that's the way it is. Sorry.<strong>

**Regarding Sam's middle name, it may have been established in canon somewhere but I read it as 'Joy' in a fic a few years back and have had the scene planned since then. I like it so much (the name and the scene) that I refuse to cut it lol**

**Thanks for continuing to read!**


	22. Chapter 20

**I promised I would finish this story and I will - I apologize to those of you left hanging while I get my shit together enough to _do so._ I also thank you for your continued loyalty :)**

**Only two chapters left after this one...**

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><p>Sam slammed the cupboard shut with a hardly-satisfying <em>Bang!<em>, beyond irritated with Freddie for the shameless dual manipulation of mother and meat and infuriated with _herself _for letting him get away with it. A deep breath was the only thing that kept her from exploding when, turning to put the plates and glasses on the table, she found the source of her misery opening the refrigerator. Now normally she wouldn't care (it meant less work for her and it wasn't like she considered _his_ fridge off-limits [not that there was ever anything in it she _wanted_ to eat]) but at the moment it was nails on a chalkboard to her, everything he said or did like ants crawling under her skin. And not in the good way.

Seeing her expression – not at the 'I need to hit something' level but not far _off_ either – Freddie held up the pitcher in surrender. "I'm just getting juice…" Apparently his mother's presence was giving him a sense of safety he probably shouldn't be having.

Rolling her eyes at the standoff Marissa pulled Sam down by the arm (the glaring blonde struggled briefly but ultimately sat) and breezily told them, "Serve yourselves."

Freddie mouthed 'thanks' to his mom as he joined them at the table, pouring them each juice from the pitcher (earning a growl from Sam that may or may not have translated to 'thank you') before sitting himself. Once the girls had taken their food he loaded up his own plate.

The only sound in the room was of quiet chewing and, despite it being a condition _she'd_ set, the lack of talking was quickly driving Sam batty. They'd done this before, the three of them eating together, but it had always been at their house and there had always been a steady stream of chatting and snark to camouflage the awkwardness. Without her wit for a weapon she felt strangely exposed.

Marissa purposely took her time, picking at her food as though she had all the time in the world; she could drag this out as long as was needed for Sam to lose patience and break her own rule. Provided her son didn't get them thrown out _first_, of course, and judging by the way he kept 'accidentally' brushing arms with the blonde he was very close to _doing so_… Extending a foot under the table she nudged his leg to get him to tone it down.

By all outward appearances Sam was cool as a cucumber but on the inside she was unraveling. It didn't help that Freddie was testing his boundaries (and _her_ tolerance) with every movement. Or that Marissa still had two drumsticks on her plate and was eating slower than… well, slower than Sam had even thought _possible_. The tactic was completely transparent and yet she was having a hard time not taking the bait; she just wanted them out of her house. And she also wanted to know why Marissa was _in_ her house…

While Freddie was inclined to follow his mother's lead (partly because he'd been _told_ to), her plan seemed to be getting them absolutely nowhere and it was a struggle not to make a move on his own. Catching her subtle shake of the head – seemingly sensing his rebellious thoughts – he turned back to his food with an inward sigh.

When a half-hour passed and the blonde seemed no closer to giving in Marissa had to admit she may have underestimated Sam's stubbornness. Still, the girl had never dealt with a mulish child who refused to eat his vegetables before – advantage: _Marissa_…

Watching the older woman pick at her meal with disinterest, apparently prepared to spend the afternoon, Sam's curiosity finally got the better of her. "Why are you here?"

Freddie would never again doubt his mother… Knowing the question wasn't directed at him (Sam knew why _he_ was there) he continued to munch his fries as he waited for the answer.

Marissa carefully chewed and swallowed her piece of instant artery clogger before nonchalantly asking, "What do you mean?"

"_I mean _I'm not stupid enough to believe you're just worried about my eating habits," Sam informed her after an impressive roll of her eyes. "And yesterday you made it pretty clear where you stand so either this is some reverse psychology stunt to get him to give up or you playing the supportive mom because you know I won't give _in_."

Once again Marissa was gripped by guilt, certain the blonde wasn't referring to the video debacle but to their conversation _after _it.

"I don't care either way," Sam went on to explain, waving her chicken leg in a gesture of boredom. "I'm just trying to figure out how much of a fake fight I'm going to have to put up." Although _her _tactic was to shame the woman into dropping it so she wouldn't have to put up _any_…

The detached tone might have fooled her son but Marissa was no stranger to pretending other people's opinions didn't hurt when they _did…_ "It's neither of those things, Sam."

"_Please,_" Sam scoffed, more legitimate skepticism than strategy. "We both know if you had a horse in this race it wouldn't be mine."

It took Freddie a second to realize what she was implying. "Sam, there's no race…"

Sparing him a glare she returned her attention to his mother. "Which is _fine _because mine's a non-starter."

Marissa decided to go along with the racing metaphor, if only because she knew the chances of having a candid discussion with Freddie in the room were less than nil. "You've already fired the starter's pistol, Sam, whether or not you, _or I_, like it."

Sam swallowed hard. "It was a mistake and I'd take it back if I could."

"I wouldn't," Freddie immediately offered.

This time she just ignored him.

"You _can't_ take it back, Sam." For better or worse, they all had to deal with the consequences. "What's done is done…"

"Yeah, well, forced retirement." Gathering the plates Sam stood and took them to the sink, turning her back on her guests. "I'm pulling it and shipping it off to the glue factory." It could hold someone _else's_ shit together.

Well _that_ was morbid… Marissa had a hard time figuring out where to go from there. "So that's it then? It doesn't matter what the…" She winced at Freddie before finishing lamely, "_race organizer_ wants?"

Freddie gave his mom WTF face. _That_ was the best she could come up with?

"Nope." Sam set to washing the dishes, more because it was a distraction than because last week's were still sitting there. "'Cause the race organizer only _thinks_ he knows what he wants."

"What if you're wrong?" Marissa stood up and went to help Sam, keeping her tone casually inquisitive. "What if _yours_ is the only one in the race and you're just throwing away your chance at the Triple Crown?"

Okay, this metaphor was officially out of hand… Tossing Marissa a dish towel Sam sighed, "Just drop the race thing, okay? If there's something you wanna say just say it." And then get the hell out…

Marissa ran the towel along the proffered plate. "I think you're wrong."

"Well, I'm not." What did Marissa care anyway? It was in Freddie's best interests (and by extension _hers_) that Sam _didn't_ believe him.

Putting a hand on the girl's arm Marissa tried (and failed) to catch her gaze. "But what if you _are_?"

"What do you _care_?!" The glass Sam was holding imploded, sending its shards and bloody water down the drain. "Damn it!" Dropping what was left of the cup she saw she'd cut herself up pretty good. And it stung like hell. This day just kept getting better and better…

As soon as Freddie heard her curse he was up and at her side. "Are you okay?"

Sam jumped at the sound of his voice over her shoulder; had forgotten he was even there. "I'm fine," she growled, moving her hand out of his reach.

Before the blonde could fight it Marissa snatched her hand from the air and placed it under the faucet, switching the water to cold. "Freddie, go get the first aid kit out of the car."

Freddie took the keys she offered him but didn't move, torn between not wanting to leave Sam and wanting to get the stuff his mom needed to fix her.

"I said I'm fine," Sam barked, reclaiming her hand. She had to bite her lip to keep from crying out when the friction sent shooting pain up her arm. _Son of a…_

Her obvious distress spurred Freddie to action.

Marissa took hold of Sam's chin and forced eye contact. "You are _not_ fine," she broke it to her softly, noting the barely restrained tears. "And if you'd stop fighting me for a second I might be able to make it better."

The tone told Sam she was talking about more than just the cuts… Jerking her face away to stare at the ceiling she sullenly allowed the woman to pick pieces of glass from her skin.

"They're not deep enough to need stitches," Marissa decided after a cursory examination.

Sam could have told her _that…_ Deadpanned, "Just a reminder of why I don't do housework."

Wrapping the afflicted extremity in a fresh towel Marissa led the blonde back to the table just as her son reentered the room. "I'm going to clean and dress it, okay?"

Freddie set the industrial-sized kit down next to his mom before moving to lean on the back of Sam's chair.

"I can do it myself," Sam argued without conviction, swathed hand in the woman's lap.

And probably had many times over the years, Marissa expected… "I'm sure you _could_," she allowed gently, "but I've got the use of both hands and just a little more experience with these things."

The concern was really starting to freak Sam out so she just nodded.

Once the bleeding slowed Marissa worked quietly, blowing on the cuts to take some of the sting out of the disinfectant.

That simple act had the tears returning to Sam's eyes. "Why are you doing this?"

Hearing the waver in the girl's voice Marissa wondered if her mother had ever shown an ounce of care. She repeated the process, avoiding Sam's gaze, before asking, "What am I doing?"

Besides playing stupid? "Why are you being so nice to me when I've only ever been rude to you?"

"You're not going to like it," Marissa warned, beginning to wind the gauze around Sam's skin.

Well, now Sam wasn't sure she wanted to know _at all_. She was about to say so but Marissa looked up from her work with such affection that the protest died in her throat.

Marissa smiled tenderly; whispered, "You're not _nearly_ as effective at driving people away as you seem to think you are."

Sam felt her lip begin to tremble and the tears spill onto her cheeks. Marissa may have been crazy but she'd never done anything to justify the way she'd been treated… "I'm sorry."

"Oh, _honey._" Marissa dried Sam's face with her sleeve before pulling her into a hug, rubbing soothing circles over the girl's back. "You don't have to apologize."

Yeah, she did; she'd just never felt the _need to_ before. That she did now told Sam she was getting way too comfortable… Pulling away she half-heartedly joked, "It's been a few years – I was due anyway."

Freddie had to smile; even when she was crying Sam kept her wry sense of humor. His smile faltered when he realized his mom had just gotten _his _apology…

The air no longer charged with tension Marissa knew that now was her (perhaps _only_) chance. "Freddie, can you take the kit back to the car?"

The accompanying look she sent him over Sam's head said he _wasn't_ to return… Reminding himself she'd been right before Freddie packed up the first aid supplies without objection.

Once he'd left the room Marissa turned back to the silent blonde. "Can I tell you what I think?"

"If I say 'no' will that stop you?" Sam volleyed, knowing full well the answer.

Marissa shook her head in the negative. "I think you're hiding behind this Carly thing – and that's definitely part of it – but really you just don't believe he _can _love you."

Sam stood. "I don't want to talk about this."

"Sam, _sit_."

Sam sat. "I'm not a Golden Lab, you know," she complained with a pronounced pout.

Nor was she given to bouts of _self-introspect_… Marissa realized that she was going to have to give a little to get a little. "When I was younger I spent a long time feeling like I wasn't good enough for anyone. Freddie's father, my family…"

The mention of his father made Sam wonder if Freddie had lied to her about the circumstances of his conception or if Marissa had lied to _him_…

"The _real_ reason I was pregnant for so long?" Taking a breath Marissa prepared to share a secret even her son wasn't privy to: "I was afraid I wasn't good enough for _Freddie_, either. That he'd somehow sense it when he was born and he'd reject me, too."

Sam's brow furrowed. "That doesn't make sense." Even if a baby _could_ sense those things her family was nothing but a bunch of judgmental douchenozzles…

"I didn't say it made sense; I said it's how I _felt._" If her past could somehow help the girl come to terms with her present then Marissa felt compelled to try. "Sam, a lot of how we see ourselves comes from how our family sees us. But that doesn't mean everyone _else_ sees us the same way."

"Except when everyone else _does _see you the same way…" Sam saw what the woman was trying to do and it wasn't going to work.

Marissa sighed; at least she'd come _expecting_ an uphill battle… "Do you know what self-fulfilling prophecy is?"

"Something to do with that Nostradamus dude?" Ted might have mentioned it once or twice but Sam hadn't really been listening.

"_No,_" Marissa denied patiently. "It's when we make something that's not true _become _true because we believe it is, even when we shouldn't or don't want to."

Sam nodded. "So like when my mom makes herself fit into a size four bikini…"

Marissa cringed at the mental image. "That's just determination, however misguided."

"Then I'm not following," Sam admitted.

Careful to keep her tone non-accusatory Marissa switched from theory to specifics. "You push people away so they won't have a chance to reject you, but it's that behavior that _makes_ them reject you. You think you're destined for failure so you don't even try, guaranteeing you _will_ fail." Since the blonde hadn't flown into a defensive rage she felt safe to continue. "Believing those things – that people will reject you, that you're going to fail – makes you act in ways that make them true when they wouldn't be otherwise."

_Now_ it was starting to sound annoyingly familiar… "You're just as bad as Franklin with the psycho-babble." And if it didn't make a difference when _he_ used it…

Marissa had spent a lot of time in counseling, trying to undo the damage her family had done, but that was neither here nor there… "Ah – Principal Franklin…" The _perfect_ example. "The man has what? A thousand students? And yet he takes a special interest in _you_… Why?"

"Because I provide entertainment in an otherwise thankless job?"

"_Because _he sees what Freddie and Carly and Spencer do," Marissa corrected lightly, though she suspected the blonde was just being facetious. "That underneath the insolent pain-in-the-ass trouble-maker there's a pretty great person. Someone who's been through a lot and is just afraid of opening herself up to more pain."

_Obviously_ she knew Ted cared about her – that his habit of going above and beyond had little to do with her entertainment value – but Marissa's armchair analysis was a tad more intrusive than Sam had been prepared for. Fiddling with the bandage she weakly snarked, "Way to turn lunch into a Hallmark movie…"

Marissa gave her a minute to digest what had been said before admitting, "I owe you an apology, Sam."

"For what?" Forcing her way in and playing Dr. Phil?

"For yesterday." Her conversation with Freddie – uncomfortable as it was – had alerted Marissa to the similarities in their situations. "I judged you the way everyone had judged me, even knowing how much it hurts."

Sam didn't know what to say; had trouble saying _anything _past the lump in her throat… "Call it even?"

Marissa nodded her acquiescence. "I know you love my son, Sam, and I truly believe he loves you, too." Taking the girl's uninjured hand she added, "Now I may be biased but I think you'd be pretty foolish not to give him a chance."

The lump grew from guilt and Sam had to cough to dislodge it. "He said something yesterday that I yelled at him for. But I think he may have been right." _Unfortunately._

Recalling Freddie's account Marissa had an idea what that was but believed it best to hear Sam's version. "What did he say?"

Sam reclaimed her hand and turned her gaze to the window. "That I'm scared he's going to leave me because my dad did."

Marissa had groaned at that part in the story – told her son it was a stupid thing to bring up – but apparently it had actually served to give Sam some pause… "Do you think it's fair to punish him for something your father did?"

"I didn't say it was fair; I said it's how I _feel_," Sam used the woman's earlier argument against her. "Even if I can get past the Carly thing and believe he loves me, loving me doesn't guarantee he won't be the next one to leave."

"I can tell you he has no intention of leaving you, Sam." It still wasn't something Marissa was happy about but something she'd come to accept.

"He doesn't need to _intend_ to." Facing the woman again Sam explained, "He wants to go away to school and I won't be the reason he doesn't." She'd seen firsthand how festering resent could tear people apart.

Marissa breathed an inward sigh of relief, a little surprised that of the pair _Sam _was being the more rational one… "Then it's up to you to make sure he doesn't have to _choose_."

The words hit Sam like a ton of bricks; how _easy _she made it sound. "It's too much…" Too much to get over, get _past._ Too much _work…_ "I'd rather he just left me alone."

"Now I don't believe that for a second," Marissa shared, giving the blonde's knee a comforting squeeze. "Wish you didn't feel the way you do? _That_, I believe…"

Whether the woman was referring to her feelings for Freddie or the rest Sam didn't know, but either way she'd be right… "If only it were that simple."

Marissa made a soft 'hmm' of agreement; knew from experience. "I guess the question is whether or not you're willing to put in the effort…" When it became clear an answer wasn't forthcoming she stood, confident she'd done everything she could. "I have to get to work – am I taking Freddie with me?"

Sam nodded, needing time to think. "Tell him…" Not coming up with anything suitable she settled for the obvious. "Just tell him I'll talk to him later, okay?"

"Sure." Patting the girl's shoulder Marissa started out of the room.

"Marissa?" Sam waited for the woman to turn around. "Thanks. For lunch, I mean."

Marissa went back and tugged the blonde to her feet for a tight hug, mindful of her injury. "_You're welcome_."

Pulling away after a minute of awkward solace Sam warned, "This doesn't mean we're like, friends or whatever…"

"Oh, heavens no," Marissa concurred with a smile, "I only put up with you for my son."

"Ditto."


	23. Chapter 21

**Hi guys! It's a long weekend here in Canada (eh!) so I was finally able to make this chapter fit for public consumption. Yay!**

**Thanks to all you readers who are sticking with this story even though I make it incredibly difficult. Your loyalty (and monumental patience) are very much appreciated!**

**I hope you enjoy the chapter enough to forgive me a little for the unforgiveable delay ;)**

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><p>The modest red-bricked bungalow was far more menacing than it had any right to be, awash in afternoon sunlight at the end of a peaceful cul-de-sac, and after spending the better part of a day on a bus it wasn't near as inviting as it should have been. In fact, all it really <em>invited<em> was dread…

"This is your stop, Miss."

The gentle prompt broke into Sam's reverie and she gave the driver a forced smile. "I'll be right back." Wondering just what in the _hell_ she'd been thinking (and not for the first time), she abandoned the safety of the cab and made her way up the perfectly-manicured walk; hesitated before bypassing the brass knocker to pound on heavy oak.

"_I'll get it!"_

Sam was in no way, shape, or form, ready to face the person who had opened the door. She was even _less_ prepared for the girl's exuberant 'greeting_._'

"Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my _God!_"

"_Oof_…" The force of the unexpected hug sent the air from Sam's lungs and her stumbling backwards. She held her own arms out awkwardly as they were joined by the child's mother. "Um – hi?"

"_Sam_?! DELL!"

Sam was able to breathe marginally better once the woman had pried her daughter away.

"Sorry – she's just excited to finally meet her famous sister."

"I told everyone at school but no one believes me! They say you're way too cool to be related to a dork like me…"

"I told you they're just jealous, Honey. DELSON – WE HAVE A VISITOR!"

Sam's eyes darted between them, the urge to turn tail and run the hell away near overwhelming. Had her father not emerged from the back of the house at that exact moment she probably would have heeded that instinct.

"Who is it? You know I have a deadline on that… Sammy?"

Coming face-to-face with her father for the first time in years, the urge to flee not only doubled but was joined by an opposing yet matched need to throw herself into his arms. She did neither, the dichotomy keeping her feet firmly rooted in place. "Dad." The effort of keeping the tremor from her voice left it completely flat.

"What are you doing here?" Dell asked, equal parts surprise and elation. "Does your mother know where you are?"

Pam probably didn't know where _Pam _was… "I need you to pay the cab. I spent all my money on the bus ticket."

Dell shook his head, still confused. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming? We would have picked you up at the station…"

"I'll take care of the cab, Babe."

Sam moved aside for the woman to pass, purse in hand and child in tow. "Uh… It was kind of a spur of the moment thing." That was her in a nutshell: act now, _regret_ later…

"Is everything okay?" After three years of trying to get her to visit (without success), there was just something off about her showing up out of the blue. And on a Sunday, no less… "Don't you have school tomorrow?"

School was just one of the many things Sam _hadn't_ thought through about this whole thing… "Everything is fine. I just…"

"Well, let her in, Dell. Or are you going to leave her standing on the porch all day?"

Sam allowed herself to be pulled inside but stopped just inside the door.

"I'm Kim, by the way. And this little human cannonball is Joyce."

"Hi!"

"Nice to meet you," Sam fibbed politely, feeling like the woman should maybe be introducing her to her father, too.

Spurred into action by his wife's gentle reprimand, Dell pulled his eldest daughter into a hug. "Come here, Soldier."

Sam automatically stiffened in his arms, the action as depressingly foreign as it was achingly familiar.

Sensing the awkwardness Kim steered the youngest Puckett back towards the door. "I'm going to take Joyce to the park and let you two catch up."

"_What_?!" Joyce dug in her heels, halting their exit. "But Sam just got here! _Sam_, Mom!"

"And she'll still be here when you get back."

"I don't care!"

"_Joyce_… We'll all go for dinner later, okay? Get to know each other…" Turning from her pouting daughter to her stoic step-daughter Kim shared, "Although between your father and iCarly I feel like I _already_ know you."

Sam swallowed a harsh 'Well, you _don't_;' acknowledged the comment with a curt nod.

"I'm not going to the park!" Joyce stomped a small foot to accentuate her displeasure. "I'm staying with Daddy and Sam!"

"The longer you stall now the less time you'll have with her later," Kim warned lightly.

Chewing a lip Joyce considered the advice, then looked at the sister she'd only just met. "Promise you'll be here when I get back?"

"Sure." Sam would have promised the kid her entire manga collection just to end the drama.

"Double pinkie promise?"

Going through the required motions Sam concurred, "Double pinkie promise."

"Okay! Bye, Sam. Bye, Daddy."

"Bye, Kiddo."

Sam rolled her eyes as the girl skipped happily out the door.

"Make yourself at home, Sam; our house is your house." Catching the blonde in a loose embrace Kim whispered, for her ears only, "I'm so glad you came – your dad was afraid you never would."

Sam nodded again, numb, as the woman released her.

"Come here," Dell requested as soon as they were alone. "Let me look at you."

Suppressing the (renewed) urge to run Sam reminded him, "You see me every week…" She knew because of all the super lame comments left on the iCarly site by 'SJP=DLSG.'

Dell gave a solemn shake of his head. "Seeing you on a monitor isn't the same. The last time we were actually _together_ was…"

"A long time ago." In what felt like a galaxy far, far away.

Her cool demeanor told him she wasn't there for some big cheerful reunion… "Did something happen with your mother?"

"No."

Nor was she going to volunteer the _real _reason, apparently… Leading her into the living room he took a seat on the couch and gestured for her to do the same. "So I haven't spoken to you since your birthday – what have you been up to?"

_Alienating my best friend, propositioning my frenemy, starting fights, almost getting suspended, bonding with the craziest Crazy that ever crazied… _"The usual. You?"

Despite knowing something was up (would she be there, otherwise?) Dell decided she'd come to it in her own time. "I'm finishing up that pilot I was telling you about; the studio is looking at it for the fall line-up."

Sam affected a smile. "Cool. Congrats." If it weren't just (_more_) proof of how successful his life was without her she might actually have been happy for him.

The lack of sincerity didn't faze Dell – he knew from which it stemmed. He was also doing his damndest to _fix _it: "Sam, if it gets picked up I want you to be a part of it."

"What?" She moved her hand away from his grasping one. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, I'm going to have some sway in casting," he quickly explained, hiding his hurt at the rejection. "And with your popularity I'm sure it won't be hard to get you the role."

Sam shook her head in denial. "Dad, I'm not an actor. I can't follow a script for my life." As evidenced by her last (and _only_) stint in television. She really didn't do well with being told what to say. Or do. Or _anything_, really…

"You could work on the scripts _with_ me, so it wouldn't be too different from what you're doing now." Before she could shoot him down he admitted, "I haven't worked out all the details yet but it's for _you_, Sammy."

All she could do was gape. "What? _Why?_"

Suddenly wary of her reaction Dell wiped clammy palms on his pants. "Uh… I was hoping it would give you the incentive to move out here."

"You thought you could lure me out here with a _job_?" She didn't know if she should be flattered he'd go to the trouble or insulted at how well he _didn't _know her…

'Lure' was such a sinister word… Unable to go back in time and _not _tell her, he barreled full speed ahead. "I thought maybe you'd stop putting it off if you could still be in front of the camera. And you can finish school here; there are plenty of creative arts programs and specialty…"

"_Whoa_!" Sam jumped up, hands out as a shield. "You need to slow down. I, like, _just _walked through the door." And this is _not_ what she'd come for. She still wasn't sure exactly what she _had _come for, but this definitely wasn't it…

As hard as it was Dell remained sitting, suspecting she'd bolt if he didn't. "I don't understand the problem, Sam – you hate living with your mother."

It took all the willpower she had to _not _let out a guttural scream… "My _problem_ is the same as it was three years ago, _Dad_: you can't just drop back into my life and expect me not to _have _one. My friends are in Seattle. I love doing iCarly."

Dell blinked at how quickly the conversation had turned hostile. "I'm not saying it would be easy, Sam, but it would be a new beginning. You'd make new friends and have a new project to work on."

"'Cause that's what you did?" Sam scoffed. "Started over and never looked back? Was it easy for _you, _Dad? Leaving us?"

Though the subject had been bound to come up, the way it _had_ was like an arrow in Dell's heart. "Sam, you know it wasn't."

Sam shook her head violently. "No. I _know _you promised to come back and you didn't. I _know _you missed us so much it took you four years to even start looking. I _know _the two people who were supposed to love me and take care of me abandoned me to the wolves. _That's_ what I know_._"

He hated himself for the tears that had appeared in her eyes. "I swear I meant to go back for you, Sam. But I wanted to be settled first and then…"

"_Don't_," she interrupted with a cutting wave. "You don't get to make excuses, okay? Do you have _any _idea what you left me to? She couldn't punish you so she took it out on me. A revolving door of boyfriends, some of them candidates for 'America's Most Wanted.' And the ones who treated me good? Well, I knew not to get too attached because they wouldn't be around long anyway."

Her tears, flowing freely now, were mirrored by his own. "I'm sorry, Sam; if I'd known…"

"You _would have_ known if you'd come back like you promised." Striding over to a family portrait hanging on the wall – taunting her – she wiped manically at her face. "You know when I stopped waiting for you to come rescue me? When I realized Melanie wasn't coming back, either."

The mention of his other daughter – the one who refused to even acknowledge his existence – was just another blow to Dell's already tight chest.

Sam let out a bitter laugh, running her fingers along the glossy black frame. "You know what's funny? Mom always hated me because she thinks I'm just like you. But really it's Mel, you know?" Meeting his gaze she dropped her voice to a pained whisper. "'Cause I don't leave. No matter how bad it gets _I_ _don't_ _leave_, because I have people worth sticking it out for." She turned back to the picture. "I guess we just weren't worth it for you."

Nothing Dell said could ever justify what he'd done; no amount of regretting could ever change it. All he could do now was take what he had coming and hope it gave her some closure. He was almost grateful for the chance… "Keep going, Sam."

"What?" She swung around to blink at him.

"Get it all out." He moved to stand in front of her (though not close enough to scare her) in case her healing required a physical element. "I knew this day was coming and I deserve it."

"Damn right you deserve it," she agreed vociferously. "And no fancy house, picture-perfect Rockwell family, or bad sitcom gig is going to make up for what you put me through."

Dell nodded his acquiescence. "I know."

Sam glared at him. Tearing him a new one wasn't nearly as satisfying if he didn't put up _some_ sort of defense for her to viciously shoot down…

Seeing her waver he took a step forward; tilted her chin up with gentle fingers. "You can hate me all you want for what happened – I have no excuse – but I love you and I'm not going to stop _trying_ to make it up to you." Whether she chose to let him or not…

"I don't hate you," she admitted unhappily, brushing away the contact. "But I don't forgive you, either." Wasn't sure she ever _could._

Dell gave her a sad smile. "I didn't ask you to, Soldier." The road to forgiveness was a lot longer than the road to acceptance, after all… "I'm willing to work for it."

"_Dad…_" The ease with which she fell under his spell – even years later, after what he'd done – both fascinated and frustrated Sam. As much as she _wanted _to hate him (like someone _else_ who would remain nameless) she still loved him more fiercely than any hate she'd ever known.

Pulling her into a tight hug he was relieved when, after a second, she returned it. "We want you here, Sammy. Joyce probably more than me…" He released her just enough so she could see his teasing wink. "But it's your decision."

"It _is _my decision," she reiterated feebly, just to be difficult.

Dell smiled at her indulgently. "So, are you hungry?"

Normally that would be an incredibly idiotic question but today was so very _far_ from a normal day… "Can I take a nap first? It's been a long weekend."

Pressing a kiss to her hair he moved to pick up the backpack his wife had retrieved from the cab. "Whatever you want, Soldier." And maybe afterwards she would tell him _why_ her weekend had been so long she'd felt the need to extend it with a twenty-hour bus-ride. Not that he was complaining…

"Can we stow the 'Soldier?'" Sam groaned, allowing him to put his arm around her shoulders and lead her down the hall. "I'm not six anymore, Dad."

Dell hip-checked her playfully. "Shut up – you know you love it." And it was a lot less embarrassing than some of the _other_ pet names he had for her…

All Sam could do was return the gesture, if a tad harder. He may have been right but that was one thing she would _never _admit aloud…

* * *

><p><strong>Considering that the focus of this story (for me, anyway) has always been Sam's issues - both with regards to Freddie and otherwise - I felt I would be remiss if I didn't address this one specifically. It was something Sam needed to do to be able to move forward (or not). Next chapter is still in L.A. but Freddie does make a brief 'appearance' and is very much focal.<strong>

**And because it was mentioned a very long time ago (chapter 8, to be exact), Dell's handle 'SJP = DLSG' translates to 'Samantha Joy Puckett = Daddy's Little Soldier Girl.' A little unimaginative for a writer, yes, but he wanted to make sure she knew it was him. Otherwise, the super lame comments could have been from anyone :)**

**I'm very grateful for your support, as always!**


	24. Chapter 22

**Hi! Hope you're all well and not _too _mad at me :)**

**I've spent weeks just rewriting this so I'm putting my foot (and the keyboard) down before I drive myself mental.**

**Enjoy!**

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><p>"<em>Joyce<em>…" Kim slid a menu across the table. "Leave Sam alone; I'm sure she doesn't want to spend the whole night talking about iCarly." The whole ride to the restaurant had probably been _more_ than enough…

"It's okay – I don't mind." And to Sam's surprise she really _didn't_ – it was nice to have someone look at her with admiration for a change instead of pity or frustration… It _did,_ however, remind her that they were supposed to be having a practice in less than an hour.

"No phones," Dell informed his eldest daughter when hers made an appearance. "We talk to _each other_ at dinner."

Giving an unapologetic shrug of her shoulders Sam began to text Carly. "I didn't tell anyone I was leaving and we're supposed to be meeting tonight."

"Ooh – do you have iCarly stuff on there?" Joyce's eyes lit up at the prospect.

"Yup," Sam confirmed as she hit 'send.' "Maybe I'll show you something later." _Once we stop acting like a creepy Stepford family…_

"At home?" Joyce looked from her sister to her mom and back hopefully. "My mom said you might come live with us…"

Kim quickly shook her head, knowing it was a touchy subject for all involved. "I _said_ Sam was welcome if she wanted to; she has her own home, JJ."

Sam was grateful _someone_ understood that_…_

"Why isn't your home here with us?" Joyce countered, genuinely confused. "Do you love your mom more than you love daddy?"

_Uh…_ Those were two very different questions with two equally painful (and _complicated_) answers…

Dell waved a hand at the previously-banned cell; offered, "I think we can make an exception just this once." _Anything_ to distract from this land mine of a conversation…

Sam didn't know if he was trying to save her or _himself,_ but at least his interjection had given her a chance to think of a response: "If I'm here I can't be on iCarly…"

Joyce's face fell. "Oh."

Despite her best efforts Sam was touched by the girl's disappointment. "Figure out what you want to eat and I'll show you a video I took, okay?"

"Chicken fingers and french fries," Joyce immediately relayed, hand held out expectantly.

Rolling her eyes (and wondering if she should be _offended_), Sam cued up the video of Gibby practicing a skateboard stunt they were still working on. "This is an unofficial sneak peek so if you tell anyone I'm going to have to kill you."

"Really?" Joyce's eyes widened until she realized it was joke. "Cool!"

Kim smiled at her daughter's enthusiasm as the waiter approached with their drinks. Once they'd placed their food orders she addressed her step-daughter. "So what made you decide to visit, Sam?" Seeing as her husband hadn't gotten anywhere she figured she'd give it a try…

"I needed a break from Seattle for a bit." A bit of a side-step? Hell, yeah. But it was true, at least…

Dell looked up from stirring his Coke and grenadine. "Did something happen? Do I need to call Principal Franklin?"

Sam shook her head. "No – I'm not in trouble." _At the moment._

"Gibby's silly," Joyce declared with a giggle, never taking her eyes from the action.

"Not the _first_ adjective that jumps to mind, but yeah." Sam could think of a few less flattering ones that applied, too…

Joyce beamed at her big sister. "He's my favorite after you."

Sam mock-cringed. "And my faith in your judgment has just suffered a tremendous blow." She would have continued the censure but was thwarted by the shrill sound of her ring tone.

Touching the screen to accept the call, Joyce put it to her ear. "Hello? I'm Sam's sister – who are _you_?"

"Joyce!" Kim chastised, aghast at her daughter's behavior. "You don't answer other people's phones…"

"It's okay – it's probably just Carly calling to find out why I'm bailing." It was a good thing Pam never called or it'd be _Sam's_ life at stake…

"It's Freddie," Joyce reported with a scrunched up nose. "I don't really like him."

"Joyce!"

Sam threw her hands up in the air. "Hallelujah! My faith has been restored!" Who knew the kid would have better judgment than _she _did? "Tell him you found my phone on the side of the road."

"Sam!"

"But I just told him I was your sister," Joyce reminded her, brow furrowed.

_Right…_ "Then tell him you lied. That you're just some insane fan that took me hostage." Wouldn't be the _first_ time…

"_I can __**hear**_ _you, Sam!"_

Like she didn't know that… "I'm gonna pretend I _can't_ hear you, okay?" Why was her volume so high, anyway?

"_Sam…"_

_Ugh_. Sam took the phone back, then shook it at her sister in exaggerated anger. "**Never **answer other people's phones!" she chastised before directing her attention to the person on the other end of the line. "What do you want, Freddie?"

"_I guess that answers the question of where you are."_

'_Guess I don't have to ask how you know I'm not at home_,' Sam mentally parried. "Yes, I'm in L.A. What do you want?"

Dell would have told her to take the call away from the table but he was far too intrigued by its tone. And by the way the boy went silent for a moment before responding.

"_Are you coming back?"_

"_No_, Freddie," Sam bit off, "I packed everything I own onto my back like a snail and slugged off never to be seen again."

"_No need to get snarky, Sam; it's not beyond the realm of possibility that you'd rather leave the state than deal with me."_

Sam couldn't deny that she'd considered it, and more than once, besides… "That's not why I'm here, okay?" After a brief pause she quietly amended, "_Mostly_."

Kim let out a victorious (and unladylike) whoop. "See? I told you there was something going on with them!"

"I don't believe it," Dell denied with a shake of his head. "The kid's cool factor is non-existent. He's too… _magoo_ for her."

_Cool factor? Magoo?_

"Believe what you want, dear husband of mine, but I'd bet a hundred dollars that the reason for the impromptu visit is on the other end of that line." Call it women's intuition…

Sam looked from one to the other with narrowed eyes.

"Two hundred," Dell countered confidently. "She mentions Gibby more than she does him."

Kim grinned at her husband. "In that case I'm more certain than ever. _Five_ hundred."

Joyce watched her parents' exchange in confusion and a little awe. "You guys said betting was bad."

"It's Monopoly money so it's okay, honey."

"If you two don't stop I'm going to Monopoly my silver shoe right up your…" Sam trailed off when she remembered the little ears present.

"_Sam?"_

Too busy listening to the supposed _adults_ at the table, she hadn't heard a word Freddie had said. Nor did she _care_ to… "Look, I'm in the middle of awkward family fun times… We'll make up the missed practice when I get home."

"_And when will that be?"_

"When I get there. Bye, Freddie." Ending the call Sam turned to the parental units. "_Seriously_?"

Dell gave an unapologetic shrug, payback for her earlier defiance with the texting. "Can you tell Kim that you're not dating Freddie?"

"I am _not_ dating Freddie." Regardless of whether or not what they'd been doing _could_ be considered dating, they weren't doing it _anymore_, and she had no intention of sharing the details of her fustercluck of a love life with these veritable strangers…

"Thank you, Sammy." To his wife Dell bragged, "I win." Easiest half a grand _ever._

"Hang on…" Kim held up a hand to ward off his premature celebration: "I didn't say they were _dating_." With teenagers – especially teenaged _girls _– it was always _complicated_.

"Only because last time you did you were _wrong_," Dell reminded her smugly.

Sam's eyebrow lifted, curious despite herself. "What are you talking about?"

Dell looked from his wife to his eldest daughter with a knowing smirk. "Last year she swore to me you two were in a secret relationship."

_Secret relationship? _"Why would you think that?"

Kim vowed to make her husband pay for throwing her under the bus… "I don't know – the way you two acted when no one else was around." At the blonde's motion to continue she tried to think of an example. "Um… there was this one video – I think it was a Baby Spencer – where he was standing really close and it took you a while to move away. Like you suddenly remembered no one was supposed to know."

_Or I was suddenly afraid __**he **__would know…_

"But then you brought your boyfriend on the show and she was forced to admit she was wrong." The victory had been bittersweet for Dell, considering who the boyfriend _was_.

"Max!" Joyce volunteered happily. "I liked him."

Sam's lips twisted into a wistful smile as she pulled up another video for the kid. "I liked him, too." Unfortunately not _enough_…

"Whatever happened to him?" As far as Kim could tell they'd been happy together.

"Jail," Sam shrugged, wanting to put the memory behind her.

"_Really_?"

"No, not really." But he might as well have been for all the contact she still had with him… When you couldn't give a good reason (or any reason _at all_) for breaking up with someone, it kind of made it hard to stay friends.

Dell turned to his youngest daughter. "If you ever come home with a long-haired, leather-wearing, trouble-maker you're grounded for life."

"_Daddy_…" Joyce giggled.

"You didn't like Max; you don't like Freddie…" Winking at her stepdaughter Kim joked, "Your father just doesn't like the thought of you dating. I swear he thinks you're still six."

'_I wonder __**why**__…' _Sam thought bitterly.

"I didn't say I don't _like_ Freddie…" Dell paused to thank the waiter that had appeared with their appetizers. "Just that he's kinda…"

"Magoo," Joyce supplied innocently, her nose once again buried in the phone.

Sam was going to assume he meant the 'Liar, Liar' definition of the word and not one of the many PG ones, in which case she wanted to be offended but _couldn't_… Helping herself to the various samplers, she allowed, "Okay, so maybe, sometimes, he's a little bit…"

"_Magoo_," Dell finished for her.

_He's just so not you? That's one of his best qualities!_ He was her father, not her ex-husband as in the movie, but that didn't make it less _true_…

Kim rolled her eyes at the back-and-forth. "Great. Now that that's settled can we let Sam settle the _bet_?"

Dell scoffed at his wife's mislead – if adorable – determination. "I'm telling you: I know my daughter. There's no way she'd be with someone so…"

"She's right," Sam interrupted, quietly yet firmly. As much as she wanted to keep her personal life private, at the moment she'd wanted to knock him off his self-satisfied delusional high horse _more_.

_What_? Turning his attention from his wife to his daughter, Dell shook his head in silent confusion.

Sam took no satisfaction from the triumph: "Guess you don't know me as well as you think you do, huh, _Dad_?" Pushing her plate away – suddenly unhungry – she stood and left the table. _Without_ asking to be excused.

* * *

><p><strong>I know it's short but the chapters just worked out that way. Next chapter is still in L.A. and then Sam is heading home to deal with Freddie!<strong>

**Until next time :)**


	25. Chapter 23

**Merry belated Christmas and Happy New Year! Please don't kill me :)**

**...**

**Previously, Sam went to L.A., either to escape Freddie or get some closure with her father, or both:**

Kim rolled her eyes at the back-and-forth. "Great. Now that that's settled can we let Sam settle the _bet_?"

Dell scoffed at his wife's mislead – if adorable – determination. "I'm telling you: I know my daughter. There's no way she'd be with someone so…"

"She's right," Sam interrupted, quietly yet firmly. As much as she wanted to keep her personal life private, at the moment she'd wanted to knock him off his self-satisfied delusional high horse _more_.

_What_? Turning his attention from his wife to his daughter, Dell shook his head in silent confusion.

Sam took no satisfaction from the triumph:"Guess you don't know me as well as you think you do, huh, _Dad_?" Pushing her plate away – suddenly unhungry – she stood and left the table. _Without_ asking to be excused.

* * *

><p><strong>Now:<strong>

If she'd had any money in her pocket, had thought to pick her phone up off the table, or even knew where in the hell she _was_, Sam would have left her father and his delusional assumptions behind faster than you could say the words 'rue the day.' Instead, she was stuck standing outside the restaurant, willing her hackles down and the maelstrom of emotions to subside.

"Are you okay?"

Stifling a groan (at least the door hadn't opened to reveal her _father_), Sam lifted her shoulders in an effected shrug. "This is actually pretty tame compared to some of the days I've been having lately." _Not a word of a lie._

True as it may have been (why else the impromptu visit?), Kim saw the deflection for what it _was_. "Don't blame your dad, okay? Boys can be kind of clueless sometimes."

The 'news' elicited a violent snort. "I don't blame him for not knowing; I blame him for thinking nothing has changed." That _she _hadn't changed…

"It's not what he thinks as much as what he _wishes,_" Kim corrected quietly, her heart hurting for them both. "He knows what he did, Sam. And it tears him up inside that he can't go back and fix it somehow."

"Well, he _can't_…" Fighting a resurgence of sadness, Sam leaned up against the building for support. "I guess we both just have to live with it."

Kim allowed silence to prevail while she considered her place and how much to say. After a brief internal debate she settled in beside her step-daughter, hands casually stuffed into her jeans pockets. "He told me what you said, about him not looking for you."

Sam bristled but remained mute.

"He was ashamed," Kim continued conversationally. "He didn't tell me about you and your sister until long after he'd started looking, and even then it was only because I'd seen the show." At which point she'd realized the 'Joy' their daughter had been named after _hadn't _been a deceased great aunt…

If that was supposed to make Sam feel all warm and fuzzy inside – that he'd only come clean once caught – then the woman needed a _serious_ lesson in conciliation tactics…

The girl's stony disposition did nothing to deter Kim. "He was afraid if he found you he'd find out you'd stopped loving him, Sam. Same as he was afraid I'd stop loving him once _I_ found out."

Sam cursed the traitorous lump in her throat; swallowed it to argue, "It shouldn't have been about _him_ – he's the _parent_."

Kim gave a slow shake of her head. "Sam, we don't automatically become perfect when we have kids; we're still human. We still get scared and we still make mistakes. And sometimes we're _selfish_…"

"Just stop_,_ okay?" Sam sighed. "I get that he's your husband and you love him and want to defend him, or whatever, but this really has nothing to do with you." It hadn't happened _to_ her.

"Okay." As much as she wanted to help, Kim knew she was still a stranger to the girl. "You want to tell me how I just took your father for half a grand instead?"

"Not really. It's kinda creepy you're so interested in my love life, by the way." 'Kinda' being an understatement…

Kim shrugged. "I'm an old lady reliving my youth through you and your friends."

"Not any _less_ creepy," Sam informed her, though she suspected it had been a joke.

"Fine. How about, you're my step-daughter and it comes with the territory?" A step-daughter she'd never _met, _but her husband's daughter and her daughter's sister and family all the same…

"Yeah…" Sam dug her sneakered toe into the ground at her feet. "I'm new to the whole 'step-parent' thing so I wouldn't know one way or the other; I hereby absolve you from anything that 'comes with the territory.'"

From what she'd heard, Kim doubted the girl was familiar with the whole '_parenting'_ thing… "I'm pretty sure it's non-absolvable," she teased, trying to keep the conversation light. "Unless your father divorces me – then I'm morally _and_ legally absolved." Seeing the blonde's flinch she realized she'd inadvertently done the exact thing she'd been trying to _avoid_… "Shit, Sam – I'm sorry."

Nails picking the newly-formed scabs in her palm, Sam shifted her watery gaze to the woman's contrite one. "Just don't let him do to Joyce what he did to us, okay?"

Kim didn't know how she'd be able to stop him, but found herself acquiescing anyway.

Sam turned back to the distance, her thoughts turning inward. "Franklin says I can't let go of the past."

It took Kim a second to process the unexpected admission. "With your father, you mean?"

"I don't really talk to him about dad," Sam offered by way of denial. "It feels too much like cheating."

"Oh." The depth of the girl's loyalty to the man was surprising. "He's really been there for you, huh?"

Sam nodded; pondered aloud, "Sometimes I give him so much grief, I wonder why he hasn't given up on me yet."

That the blonde thought he _should_ led Kim to believe she thought everyone else – her parents included – already _had… _"Can I tell you something?"

"It's a free country." And it wasn't like Sam had anywhere else to go…

"Your father is jealous." Sensing the girl's skepticism, Kim added, "Don't get me wrong: he's glad you have someone to turn to, and he knows it's no one's fault but his own that it's not him. But he envies the relationship you have with your principal all the same."

"He does?" Despite Sam's best efforts, her tone betrayed a note of interest.

"Parents get jealous, too," Kim smiled, pleased to be making progress. "But he'd be horrified if he knew I told you, so not a word, okay?" When her companion said nothing – seeming to take the request literally – she joked, "I meant about that, not 'at all.'"

"I know." Sam watched the blur of passing traffic as she considered how much to share; decided the woman's opinion was the most unbiased one she was going to get… "I was talking about with Freddie."

Not wanting to derail the girl's train of thought again (or worse: offend her into clamming up), Kim's only response was a soft hum of encouragement.

"He says he loves me but I can't get past the Carly thing." That was the _big_ one, anyway…

Kim pursed her lips; muttered a simple, "Oh."

"'_Oh'_?" Sam glanced at her step-mother. "That's what you've got for me?" God, she hoped the woman got better at giving advice before Joyce became a confused hormonal teenager…

"What do you expect?" Kim defended, forgetting tact for a moment. "I only know what I've seen on the site." Even with her father, the girl wasn't exactly forthcoming with the details of her life outside _iCarly_…

"Then you _saw_ how obsessed he was," Sam wryly pointed out. "Fawning all over her and making a general fool of himself…" Preserved in their archives for all the world to see. Over and over and over.

The blonde's assessment was pretty accurate, and also part of why Dell assumed (_hoped_) his daughter was smart enough not to have feelings for the boy. Kim wasn't so unforgiving: "You just said yourself: _was_. When was the last time he gave you reason to think he was still hung up on her?"

"For real? I don't know." Everything used to seem like 'reason,' but lately Sam was starting to question her own judgment. "Franklin says it's more fear than reality. But it feels the same, you know?"

Unfortunately Kim _did _know. "When your father first told me what he did to your mother and you girls? I kicked him out."

"You did?" Seemed Sam wasn't the only one who didn't believe in full disclosure…

Kim nodded, meeting her step-daughter's curious eyes. "I couldn't believe the man I knew – the man I _married_ – could do something so horrible; that it took him so long to tell me. And I was afraid that if he could do it to you guys then he could do it to us."

"It's hardly the same situation." For one thing, her father had married the woman out of love rather than obligation…

"No, it isn't," Kim conceded. "But I knew he was capable, and I had to decide whether I was going to let something that had happened in the past ruin what we had; something he couldn't change any more than I could change loving him…" Lifting an inquisitive eyebrow, she posed, "Do you think I made the wrong decision?"

Sam groaned inwardly, recognizing the parallel the woman was trying to not-so-subtly draw. "It was your decision; if it doesn't work then _you_ have to live with it."

Kim wondered if the blonde got her caginess from her mother or it was just the side-effect of a less-than-ideal upbringing… Trying another approach, she breathed a sympathetic sigh. "Are you worried you're going to look like an idiot if you trust him and he proves you wrong? Because _I_ was…"

"I don't know," Sam admitted for the second time in as many minutes. "Everyone's got a different idea of what my problem is." And the list just kept growing.

"Well, what do _you _think?" In the end it was only the girl's opinion, and how she handled it, that mattered…

Sam absentmindedly traced the wounds in her skin. "All of the above, maybe?" All of the fears and neuroses, each one damaging on its own but debilitating when put together, and any of which, if founded, could leave a permanent scar… "I'm not good at letting myself be vulnerable. Leaving myself open to getting hurt."

Which was completely understandable, given what the girl had been through… "Sam, I can't promise you won't get hurt," Kim advised quietly, "but I _can_ promise that you don't want to have any regrets. If I hadn't let your father back in, we wouldn't be where we are now."

"You didn't know for sure that's how it would be." And even then her odds had been infinitely better than Sam's were…

"You're right; I loved him enough to take the chance and it paid off. But even if it _hadn't_, at least I wouldn't have had to spend the rest of my life wondering 'what if.'" Removing a hand from her pocket, Kim placed it imploringly on the blonde's arm. "If you're going to take anything away from what your father did, let it be that you can't get a do-over, however much you may want one."

Oh, Sam had already 'taken away' far more from what he'd done than she cared to… But even if she _could_ set aside her doubts and 'take the chance,' what if it turned out she'd been _right_ to have them? Chilled despite the unrelenting heat, she whispered a hoarse, "I'm not sure I wouldn't rather regret it than risk ending up like my mother."

Kim swallowed hard at the reminder of the mess her husband had left in his wake, and of the fate to which he'd abandoned his daughters. "Sam, just because you have her DNA doesn't mean you'll _become _her; not everyone deals with adversity the same." Some could hack it and some just couldn't. _Some_ were unfortunate enough to be doomed to suffer the sins of their parents… "You've been dealt more than your fair share and you've survived it, Sam. I think you've already proven you're stronger than her."

Refraining from telling the woman she didn't know the first thing about her – or even _half_ of what she'd 'survived' – Sam hid her uncertainty behind a forced smile. "What doesn't kill you, right?"

"Exactly," Kim agreed.

That would have been more comforting if Sam weren't afraid it would be what finally _did _kill her…

* * *

><p><strong>I know this chapter took a looong time and it's short and decidedly lacking in the Seddie department, but I promise the next chapter (hopefully the <em>last)<em> will rectify that.  
><strong>

**Best wishes to everyone for 2015!**


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